Tell Me: A Second Chance Sequel
by klarolineepiclove
Summary: One year later: Brooke Davis is planning the wedding of her dreams. And despite Dean's unconventional attitude, she's excited. But when a demon from the Winchester's past appears-not to mention her own--she finds her dreams unraveling.
1. Chapter 1

**Tell Me**

**A.N. The sequel to Second Chances!! Woot woot!**

**Summary: A year after Jamie's kidnapping and Dean's proposal, Brooke Davis is planning the wedding of her dreams, and despite her fiancée's unconventional attitude, she can't help but be excited. But when the plans of a demon from the Winchester's past--and, to her shock, her own as well--are revealed, she's finding her dreams unraveling faster than she ever thought possible.**

* * *

_It's all in the mood…_

Brooke Davis couldn't help the smile that crept across her face as she lit the last candle along the fireplace, sending the living room into a dim-lit trance. She took a step back and put her hands on her hips, admiring her handiwork.

Not too over-the-top, but not too hum-drum either. A perfect Brooke Davis accomplishment.

She nodded in appreciation, spinning on her heel as she ran a hand through her hair.

Dean was finally coming home after nearly two weeks on the road. He and Sam had gotten a call from Ellen, the owner of a hunter bar called Harvelle's Roadhouse, about a sling of murders that had the smell of supernatural all over it. They'd left twelve days ago, the longest amount of time they'd been gone in over a year.

Dean had called her that morning with the news that the demons were toast and they'd be home before eleven.

Glancing at the clock on above the television, Brooke saw that she still had a good hour and a half. Glancing down at her jeans and T-shirt, she shrugged, smiling. Plenty of time to slip into something a little more…well…uncomfortable, but sexy as hell.

Setting the lighter down on the coffee table, she turned to make her way down the hall, but a quick rap against her front door caught her attention. She straightened when the door opened and her godson raced inside, followed quickly by his mother. She couldn't help the smile that split across her face when Jamie launched himself at her, all of his 6-year-old body weight causing her to stumble back slightly at the impact.

"Hi, Aunt Brooke!" he exclaimed, grinning up at her brightly.

Brooke laughed, wrapping her arms around him and pressing a kiss to his forehead. "Hello there, handsome," she replied, smiling at him.

"We're coming back from the studio," Jamie continued, hopping excitedly on his feet. "Momma let me sing into the microphone and everything!"

"She did?" Brooke enthused, looking from the boy to her friend as she stood in the center of the room, arms crossed over her chest.

Haley had a slightly funny look on her face as she glanced around the room quickly, before meeting Brooke's gaze and shrugging. "Miranda will probably throw a fit, but, strangely, I could care less," she said, smiling.

Brooke laughed, nodding, and looked back at Jamie when he tugged on her hand. "Can I have a pudding?"

"Of course you can," she said, motioning towards the kitchen with a smile. She shook her head when he took off at a gallop, and she turned to look back at Haley.

The brunette had taken a further step into the room, that strange expression back on her face as she took in the dim lights. "Sorry to barge in," she said, shrugging. "You know Jamie. Any chance he can get to see Aunt Brooke, he pounces on."

Brooke nodded, shoving her hands into the pockets of her jeans, and shrugged, forcing a nonchalant smile onto her face. "You know you're always welcome, Hales."

Haley nodded, her eyes narrowing slightly at the too-serene smile on her friend's face, before they settled on the dozen candles behind her. Her eyes widened in realization as she let out an embarrassed laugh.

"Oh my God," she said, covering her eyes with her hand as she laughed. "You were totally getting ready for 'welcome home' sex with Dean, weren't you?"

"Haley!" Brooke whispered loudly, her eyes motioning towards the kitchen where Jamie was happily shoveling chocolate pudding into his mouth.

Haley laughed again, shaking her head. "Oh, Brooke, I'm so sorry," she gasped. "I thought Dean was still on the road."

Brooke closed her eyes in humiliation, running a hand through her hair as she laughed. "He is," she said, shaking her head. "He's coming home tonight."

"Hence all the candles and dim lighting and sexual tension. All that's missing is sexy lingerie…" At Brooke's pointed look, she chuckled. "Which you were getting ready to wrangle into before we came barging in." She watched her friend shift slightly on her feet before she smiled. "We'll leave."

"No, no," Brooke said, making her way around the couch. "It's fine, Haley. I'm sure Jamie would love to see Dean." She grinned, shrugging. "Besides, it's not like we can't just sneak into the bathroom for a quickie when the kid's not looking."

Haley barked out a laugh, reaching out to slap her friend across the arm. She smiled, shaking her head, and glanced towards the kitchen. "JimJam, toss me a pudding!"

* * *

"Home sweet home," Dean as he shut the trunk of the Impala, gazing in relief at the two story house on the curb he and his brother had come to call home in the last year. He glanced over at his younger brother as he lurched out the passenger seat, groaning as he held a hand against his back.

"I think I need an icepack," Sam said, leaning backwards as he twisted his waist from side to side.

Dean smirked, pulling his duffel bag over his shoulder. "Quit being such a pansy, Sammyboy," he said, making his way up the drive.

"Don't call me Sammy," he heard from behind him, and he chuckled, raising his eyes to the living room window, where a dim light was glowing behind the heavy shades.

Saying that he was excited to see Brooke was an understatement. Twelve days away from that woman's arms was twelve days too many. He had a job to do, he knew that. But after nearly five years away from Brooke Davis, that line of responsibility blurred a hell of a lot.

He fished around in his pocket for his house keys--and the fact that he even OWNED house keys still brought a dopey smile to his face--and stuck the key into the lock. He heard the laughter before he even turned the door knob, and as he threw the door open he was greeted with a bundle of six-year-old enthusiasm, a pair of short arms wrapping themselves tightly around his legs.

He grinned, letting the duffel on his shoulder drop to the floor with a thud, and swooped his "nephew" into his arms and onto his shoulders. "Hey there, Kobe," he said, smiling at the sound of the boy's laughter as he felt his tiny fingers wrap themselves into the collar of his jacket. He shook his head, switching his gaze to the two women sitting on the couch in front of him, and he couldn't help grinning when he saw Brooke's smiling face.

"Hey there, Hotshot," Haley said, setting her glass of wine on the table in front of her. She turned in her seat to smile at him, leaning her chin on her elbow. "Bring me back anything good?"

Dean smirked at her, taking a step into the room. "Sorry, Haley, I left the severed head back at the motel."

"Dean!" Brooke scolded, her wide eyes indicating the child on his shoulders.

He grinned, unrepentant, as he glanced up Jamie. The boy's eyes were focused on the ceiling, in ways only an innocent child's could be. He shrugged. "Sorry."

The door closed behind him, and the sound of bags dropping to the floor echoed through the room. "Who cares, the kid's demented already," Sam said, raising a hand in a pathetic wave as he weaved around his brother and headed towards the stairs.

"I know you are, but what am I?" Jamie chimed from Dean's shoulders, causing the hunter to chuckle when his brother glared over his shoulder.

"Hello to you, too, Sam," Haley said sarcastically.

Sam waved at them again over his shoulder, one hand holding tightly to the railing. They watched as his towering frame ascending the stairs step by step slowly until he disappeared across the landing, the sound of his bedroom door closing following a moment later.

"Man, he's such a ray of sunshine after a hunt," Haley remarked perkily, looking over when Brooke chuckled softly. They smiled at each other briefly before she watched her friend's eyes latch on to the man standing by the door. Glancing over her shoulder again, she saw that Dean's gaze was riveted on the brunette at her side as well. She sighed, smiling, and clapped her hands against her thighs as she sat up. "Well, Jamie Scott, it is about time for you and me to get home to your father. Lord only knows what condition the house is in after he and Clay have been left to their own devices all evening."

Jamie let out a long, stressed out sigh, as if he was only too familiar with his father and his agent's antics, causing the three adults in the room to laugh. He grinned and took a leap off of Dean's shoulders, the hunter's hands tight around his waist as he helped lower him to the ground. He smiled up at his uncle as his mother made her way towards them. "Welcome home, Uncle Dean," he said, taking a hold of Haley's hand as they headed for the door.

"Yeah, welcome home, Uncle Dean," Haley echoed, a smirk on her face as she smacked his arm with the back of her hand in passing. She grinned over her shoulder at Brooke, eyebrows raised suggestively as she opened the door. "Have fun, guys," she sang on her way out, closing the door behind her.

As soon as he heard the door click shut, Dean crossed the room to Brooke, and before she could even stand to her full height, he pulled her into his arms, crushing his lips to hers. He felt her grin against his mouth, and her arms snaked around his waist and up to his shoulders. He sighed at the contact, wrapping his arms around her slender hips and resting his forehead against hers. "God, I missed you, Davis."

Brooke smirked up at him, lifting one shoulder in a shrug. "Naturally."

He grinned, cupping her face in the palm of his hand and brining their lips together again. He closed his eyes at the feel of her warm breath on his face, relishing the sweet perfume of her skin, the silky softness of her hair.

"You know, I had a whole romantic welcome-home setting for you, Mr. Winchester."

He opened his eyes, looking down into her face and smirking at that damn eyebrow that could arch itself in the sexiest way imaginable. "Really?" he baited, letting his arms travel down the span of her body to settle on her hips as he swayed them back and forth slowly.

She pursed her lips, nodding as her arms slid down his muscled chest. "Mmmhmm…and then Haley and that adorable little boy bounced in, and I wasn't able to complete my evil plan."

Dean grinned when her hands slipped underneath his shirt, skimming the waistband of his jeans. Her nails sent shivers down his spine, and his fingers gripped her waist tighter. "Evil plan?" he asked, tilting his head to the side. "Sounds devious."

"Oh, it is," she said, raising herself onto her tiptoes to graze her lips against his, pulling back when he tried to deepen their kiss. She shrugged, smirking. "Full of candles and music and dim lighting….not to mention what I'm wearing under these clothes…"

Dean raised an inquisitive eyebrow, craning his neck downward to peruse her skin tight jeans and T-shirt. "Hmm…and what would you be wearing under those clothes, Miss Davis?"

He watched her take her bottom lip between her teeth, and watched that eyebrow arch even higher as a flirtatious smile crept across her face. She leaned up, pressing her lips against his ear. "Nothing," she whispered, pressing a kiss to the soft skin there.

Dean rolled his eyes to the ceiling, praying for strength against this woman--this addiction that he just couldn't kick. But when her lips traced a path from his earlobe to his jaw line, he realized that strength was in short supply.

He bent forward, catching her legs just behind her knees, and swept her up into his arms. She squealed in surprise, her arms coming up to wrap themselves around his neck and shoulders. He grinned, pressing his lips against hers greedily. "Brooke Davis, you're going to be the death of me."

He felt her smile against his lips. "I'm counting on it."

She pulled his face down to hers again, and Dean chuckled against her mouth, tracing that oh-so-familiar path to their bedroom in the back of the house, never having been so relieved to be back home.

* * *

The headlights were bright against her face as the car veered to the curb, slowing to a stop a foot away from her. She clutched the edges of her coat together as she jogged up to the open window, her blonde hair blowing in the night breeze as she leaned down, peering into the darkened interior.

"Need a lift?" the smiling man asked, his bright teeth shining in the dim lighting of the car.

She grinned, rolling her eyes to the night sky. "You would really save me a hell of a painful blister," she laughed.

The man laughed, reaching over and pushing open the passenger side door for her. "No problem," he said, settling back into his seat as she climbed inside. "It's a nasty night out to be walking. Did you have car trouble?"

The blonde shrugged, smiling as she pulled the door shut. "Something like that."

He nodded, shifting the car into drive and pulling back onto the highway. "Where you headed?" he asked, his eyes on the road ahead of him.

He didn't catch the almost frightening smile that crept across the pretty girl's face, or the way her eyes flashed pitch black as she fastened her seatbelt across her chest, her face turned out the passenger side window. "Oh, you know," she said, her eyes fastening on the city limit sign that raced past them. "Just heading in to see some old friends."

She turned back to him, her eyes now a light shade of blue, but the smile still fixed on her face.

The Welcome to Tree Hill sign disappeared into their rearview mirror, fading into nothing but rain and darkness, and the girl could do nothing more than settle back into her seat, that same smile on her face.

_Let the games begin…_

* * *

_Yay!! I'm so excited for the sequel!! Hopefully this was a good opener for you guys! A little bit of fluff right before the baddie springs into town. _

_Let me know what you guys think!_


	2. Chapter 2

**Tell Me**

**Thanks for the reviews, guys! I'm glad that you guys wanted to see where Brooke and Dean's story takes them next. Super excited to go on the adventure with you!**

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He loved mornings like this.

Dean smiled as he rested his head in the palm of his hand, his elbow propped on the bed as he stared down at the sleeping woman beside him. The fingers of his free hand were lazily tracing patterns on her bare back, his eyes transfixed on the way the shadows and sunlight danced across her pale skin.

Even sleeping, Brooke Davis was the most beautiful woman in the world.

He leaned down, letting his face just graze the dark mass of hair that was spread across the pillow, breathing in her floral scent as his fingers continued their lazy path. He felt her take a deep breath and looked up when her hand quickly batted his away.

"Stop that," she said, her voice muffled by the pillow and thick with sleep.

He grinned, placing a kiss on the back of her neck. "Stop what?" he asked, tracing her spine softly with the back of his hand.

"That," she said, grasping his hand once more to stop its movement. "I'm trying to sleep and you're making it very difficult."

"Good," he replied with an impish grin, wrestling his hand free and wrapping his arm around her waist. "Nobody really needs sleep anyway." He pressed his lips to the skin just below her earlobe and pulled her closer, a grin spreading across his face when she groaned in protest. "Come on, B…it's been almost two weeks," he whined softly.

Brooke scoffed, turning around in his arms to arch an eyebrow up at him, her lips turned up in a smirk. "What are you, five?" she asked, reaching up to wrap her arms around his neck regardless. "My God, Jamie doesn't complain as much as you do." She pressed a soft kiss to his lips. "Besides…I'm pretty sure that last night totally made up for the whole long absence thing."

"Oh, honey, last night was just the beginning," Dean replied, gently rolling her onto her back and lying his body atop hers. His hands trailed down her sides to rest on her hips, and he felt her laugh against his lips.

God, life couldn't get any better.

"Brooke!"

Dean's eyes snapped open, his whole body freezing on the spot.

"Brooke, where are you?"

He groaned, feeling Brooke's arms fall away from his shoulders.

He'd spoke too soon.

"Come on," he groaned, plopping onto his back as he rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hands. He felt the bed shift beside him, and Brooke's lips pressed a soft kiss to his shoulder as she slung her legs over the bedside, clutching the sheet to her chest. "She's got a radar, Brooke," he called as she made her way to their adjoining bathroom, rolling her eyes at him over her shoulder. "You think I'm joking, but it has to be true. I swear to God. If there's not an ounce of demonic hooplah in that woman, then I'm the Goddamn King of Siam!"

The only reply he received was the unlady-like snort of laughter that preceded the shutting of the door.

Dean grabbed a pillow and pressed it against his face, stifling the groan of frustration and entertaining himself with thought of shooting Victoria Davis with a buck of rock salt and sending her to the fiery depths.

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"Really, Brooke, it is nearly two in the afternoon. Can you honestly tell me that you have nothing better to do than roll around in the sheets with that sorry excuse for a man?"

Brooke rolled her eyes as she made her way into the kitchen, shaking her head at her mother as Victoria sat at the counter, one perfectly tanned leg crossed over the other.

Her perfectly plucked eyebrows were raised in that no-nonsense motherly way she'd taken to, her hazel eyes--so similar to Brooke's own--taking in her daughter's flushed face. She sighed, running a hand through her long, black hair before resting her elbows on the counter. "And how is Dean?" she asked, her tone of voice bored and monotone.

Brooke grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator and turned to face her mother, shrugging as she crossed the short distance to the counter. "Fine," she said, twisting off the cap and raising the bottle to her lips. "Wishing that you'd maybe call before you showed up out of the blue, but fine nonetheless."

Victoria rolled her eyes. "Oh, please," she said. "Since when does a mother need permission to come and visit her daughter?"

"Since said mother happens to hate said daughter's said fiancée, leading to nothing but painfully uncomfortable moments that said daughter truly, truly hates."

The elder Davis met her daughter's eyes for a moment before she sighed, shaking her head. "Fine. I will be nothing but polite to the dirty troll." At Brooke's glare, she lifted a shoulder in a half-shrug. "Okay, okay, to the dirty…fiancée."

Her lips turned up in disgust at the word, and Brooke couldn't help but shake her head.

The contempt that Dean and her mother had for each other had only seemed to expand over the last year, even after she and Brooke had reconciled. Just the memory of Dean's flabbergasted expression and his endless pleading to please tell him she was joking still brought a smile to her face. That, combined with Victoria's shocked and disgusted expression when she'd finally spotted the ring on her daughter's finger, could still cause her to spin into a giggling fit.

Sure, she wouldn't mind if her mother and the love of her life got along. It sure would make the whole wedding planning process a hell of a lot easier, but who was she kidding? Dean was Dean and Victoria was Victoria. And, when she was being honest with herself, just the idea of the two of them even being pleasant to each other nearly sent an unwelcome shudder down her spine.

No, she'd take them just as they were.

"What brings you this afternoon, Mother?" Brooke asked, leaning her elbows against the counter and looking across at her mom. "Apart from the Dean-bashing, to which it's very obvious you take such delight in."

Victoria sighed, stretching her arms against the granite countertop. "I'm just curious as to whether or not you'd decided on the face of the new line yet." When Brooke sighed, she straightened slightly, shaking her head. "Come on, Brooke, you can't honestly think that this little no name actress could possibly carry the line, as opposed to a seasoned model. She has no modeling experience. The only thing she has going for her is a slanderous career, a tiny waist, and perky breasts."

Brooke laughed, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "How is that any different from any of the models in the company?"

"They have EXPERIENCE," Victoria reiterated. "They know all the turns, the spins, when to smile, when to glare. They know how to own a walkway. Alex Dupre, apparently, simply knows how to own a Vodka bottle and severely overdone nude scenes in movies that never get seen." She shrugged, settling back into her seat. "The decision should be obvious. But, then again, it is your company. It's your line, and you obviously should decide whose face becomes the center of it."

As her mother's speech droned on, Brooke caught sight of Sam descending the staircase two at a time, but before his foot could land on the last step, he froze, eyes glued the back of Victoria's head. She had to bite her lip to keep from laughing at the sheer fear on his face when he realized who was sitting with her in the middle of the kitchen, and she could see him weighing his options as he stood with one foot suspended in the air.

Sam had merely scoffed every time Dean had tried to warn him of Victoria. He'd laughed and always mentioned that after years of hunts and demons and monsters, how scary could one normal human woman be?

He'd been schooled after that first visit from her mother.

As she stood at the counter now, she felt almost as if she was watching one of those old comedy movies as she eyed Sam stealthily. His eyes kept darting back up the stairs and to her, seeming to implore her as to whether he could safely make it back up the stairs and to his room without being noticed. She wrapped her hands around her water bottle, shaking her head the slightest bit. She saw his shoulders heave in a massive sigh as he raised his eyes to the ceiling, and this time she couldn't help the small chuckled that managed to escape her mouth.

Victoria caught her eye and looked over her shoulder, her face quickly turning to a flirtatious smirk when her eyes landed on the Sam. "Hello, Samuel," she said, turning her stool around until she could face him fully. She folded her hands and placed them delicately on her knee, her head tilting slightly to the side as she smiled at him.

Brooke could see Sam's Adam's apple bobbing from where she stood, and she hid her grin behind her hand.

"Victoria," Sam croaked uncomfortably, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans as he rounded the staircase and made his way to the kitchen.

While Victoria Davis may despise Dean, when it came to the younger Winchester brother, her feelings were nothing but the polar opposite. Brooke had been thoroughly repulsed when her mother had referred to Sam as a "fine specimen," her face taking on the expression Brooke herself had worn throughout most of her high school career. Looking back on it now, maybe it had been wrong to let Sam in on her mother's horribly inappropriate attraction to him, but once Dean had found out, he was practically giddy with the information, and she couldn't have kept him quiet about it if her life depended on it.

"I have to say, it really is such a delight to see you in this house," Victoria nearly crooned, a perfectly manicured fingernail tapping against her knee. "Compared to that lunkhead brother of yours, you're just a…breath of fresh air. Really, Brooke, why couldn't you have gone the smarter approach and nabbed this one?"

"Because she obviously could see who was the better catch in the bunch," Dean announced as he made his way into the kitchen, his trademark smirk already in place on his stubbled face.

Brooke smiled at him when he gripped her hips gently from behind, pressing a kiss to her cheek as he reached around her for the brewing coffee pot.

Victoria sighed from her place at the counter, turning her stool until she could send a withering glare in the direction of her future son-in-law. "Dean," she said bitterly.

"Satan," Dean replied without missing a beat, just barely dodging the slap that Brooke aimed at his chest. He smirked at her as he reached for a coffee mug, winking smugly when she shook her head. "What brings ya, Medusa? Run of out of human sacrifices in your hideaway already?"

"Ah, how I've sincerely missed you and your wit, Dean," Victoria said sarcastically. "And you do know what they say. 'Absence makes the heart grow fonder.' So why don't you just…scamper off for a month or two and we'll see how things progress, hmm?"

"Mother," Brooke scolded, catching the glint in Dean's eye when he turned to face her.

The elder Davis threw up her hands, smirking slightly as she rose to her feet and slung her purse over her shoulder. "I can take a hint," she said, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "Think about my suggestion, Brooke…both the professional AND personal ones." When her daughter merely rolled her eyes, she turned on a stiletto heel and waltzed to the door, sending what could only be described as a lecherous leer at Sam as she passed him.

The sight of the giant of a man recoiling as the woman passed made Dean snicker into this coffee mug, and he shrugged when his younger brother sent a glare in his direction. "What can I say, Sammy?" Dean said as the door shut behind Victoria. "She can smell fear and innocence from a mile away."

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Last year at this time, if you had asked Sam Winchester if he could see himself sitting a diner in a small North Carolina town, next to a normal guy that he considered a friend and a pretty brunette he claimed a girlfriend, he probably would have laughed in your face.

But here he did sit, wedged between Millicent and "Mouth" McFadden, chuckling into his coffee as they shared lunch together.

Millie looked over at him, her now glasses-free face smiling at him. "What's so funny?"

Sam shook his head, settling back into his chair, and shrugged. "Just…laughing about how life turns out sometimes," he said, smiling at her. "I never would have imagined my brother being a month away from getting married, let alone settling for this small-town life that he had nothing but resentment for." He chuckled again. "It's funny. I mean, great, but…funny all the same."

Mouth shrugged, grinning, and set his coffee mug back on the counter. "Hey, at least you guys get a steady roof over your heads now," he said. "I mean, no more fake names--for the most part--, no more alibis, no more credit card scams."

Sam laughed, looking over at him. "No more credit card scams? How do you think Dean paid for Brooke's ring?"

He heard Millie's fork clatter to her plate, and he looked over to see her eyes wide, and couldn't help the grin that spread across his face.

"He SCAMMED it?," she asked, speaking in only a loud whisper, something that she had adopted since Sam had shared his secret lifestyle with her eight months ago. It always made him smile, the way she always looked all around her before she brought up a hunt. He found it oddly endearing. "Does Brooke know that?"

Mouth laughed from down the counter, leaning around Sam to grin at her. "She's probably the one that told him to do it," he said. "Come on, Millie. Haven't you ever heard all the Brooke The Pool Hustler stories? She was the ultimate hustler back in high school. To be honest, I'm not really sure Dean has anything on her."

The three of them laughed, Millie smiling as Sam wrapped an arm around the back of her chair, and Mouth couldn't help the way his stomach dropped at the sight.

Once upon a time, he'd liked Millicent. He'd thought she was pretty and smart and funny. But then he'd been a guy he wasn't too proud of. He'd been having an affair with his boss to get ahead in the announcer business, and even after Brooke had scolded him for his behavior, he'd let the affair continue. By the time he'd wised up and decided to give it a shot with Brooke's pretty assistant, Sam Winchester had already been in the picture. And the way he made her smile and laugh, and the way they looked at each other had told him that he didn't stand a chance.

He liked Sam. He was the polar opposite of Dean, which he honestly thought would have put the two of them at odds, considering how good of a friend his older brother was to him. But he found that he had much more in common with the younger Winchester than he would have thought. It turned out that they were pretty much alike when it came to their years in high school. Neither of them particularly popular and well-liked, but intelligent and hard working. And though they both took completely different career paths--him in broadcasting and Sam in…well…demon-hunting, he couldn't help but feel like he had something of a kindred spirit in Sam Winchester.

He valued his friendship with him.

So he pushed his feelings for Millie to the backburner. And he had to admit that he was very happy for the two of them. But that didn't help the fact that he now realized that of his friend's in Tree Hill, he was the only one that was still alone.

Sighing, he turned back to his burger and fries as the bell above the diner door dinged loudly. He was only half paying attention to the sound of heels walking across the tiled floor, but he caught the movement of the chair two seats down from him from the corner of his eye. He turned, spotted the leggy blonde girl that was taking a seat. A curtain of blonde hair was covering the side of her face closest to him, but as she raised a hand to toss it over her shoulder, he furrowed his brow, leaning towards her slightly to get a better view as she smiled at the waitress and asked for a cup of coffee.

"Shelley?"

The blonde turned to him, her lightly made-up face lightning up in recognition after a moment.

"Mouth?"

Mouth grinned, shaking his head as he stood up, taking the few steps necessary to stand next to her chair. "Oh, my God," he laughed, stuffing his hands into the pocket of his jeans. "Shelley, what are you doing here? Did you move back to Tree Hill?"

Shelley grinned, nodding. "Yeah," she said. "I just got back a couple days ago. Turns out me and journalism don't exactly see eye-to-eye on most things. You know, like the availability of jobs and all that." She shrugged, rolling her eyes. "So…back in Tree Hill for awhile…starting fresh. But I can't believe you're still here! I mean, I would have figured you would've been one of the ones to make it big and get out of dodge."

Mouth laughed, ignoring the feel of his friends curious stares on his back as he shifted on his feet. "Are you kidding? Tree Hill is home. Pretty much all of us found our way back here eventually."

"All of us?" Shelley asked, tilting her head to the side in question.

"Yeah. Haley, Nathan, Brooke." At her surprised face, he laughed. "Yeah, even Brooke Davis, fashion guru. She moved back home a couple years ago. She's actually getting married here in about a month." The sound of a throat clearing came from behind him, and he smiled, turning around and shooting his friends an apologetic glance. "Sorry, uh…guys this is Shelley Simon, another Tree Hill high survivor. Shelley this is Millicent Huxtable, and Sam Winchester. Sam is actually the brother of Brooke's fiancée."

Millicent smiled brightly and waved while Sam stretched across the counter, extending his hand. "Sam, it's nice to meet you."

Shelley took his hand, shaking it briefly, and smiled. "Yeah, likewise. So Brooke Davis is getting married. Didn't stick the Clean Teen thing then, huh?" she asked, smiling at Mouth. He laughed and shook his head, shrugging. "Eh, it was overrated anyway. So um…how's everybody else? I mean, I seriously haven't seen you since graduation. Sad to say that I've lost touch with everyone…how's Rachel?"

Mouth laughed when he heard Millie sigh at the mention of the name, and he looked over when she and Sam slowly rose their feet. "That's the beginning of a long story," she said, smiling. "But Sam and I are running a little late for the whole Brean wedding plans, and the last thing we need is for our heads to ripped off for tardiness."

Shelley laughed. "Brooke's a real Bridezilla then?"

"Oh, no, not Brooke," Sam said, shaking his head. "Haley. She's taken on the whole wedding planner role with Peyton still road tripping it with Lucas. Believe me…I think I'd rather take a frustrated crazy fashion designing bride over Haley James-Scott."

Shelley and Mouth laughed when Millie nodded her agreement. She smiled, shrugging into her jacket. "Anyway, it was nice to meet you, Shelley. See you later, Mouth."

Mouth waved as they made their way to the door, then turned and smiled down at Shelley again.

The blonde who he'd been so crazy about senior year grinned at him, her blue eyes shining up at him, and she patted the seat next to her. He grinned, nodding, and sat down, wondering at his stroke of luck as he launched into a history lesson of their Tree Hill High School gang.

0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

"The Winchesters are here."

The chalice of blood seemed to bubble up at response to the words, even as the lifeless body of the waitress lay cast off to the side, having served her purpose.

"Yes, it was just as you said it would be. They're with the girl. Always with the girl, as I'm told. Living like a little…modern day family."

The blood sloshed against the sides of the chalice, even though the hands holding it were steady.

"I understand. I promise you…yes…nothing will hinder this. This time, we won't fail."

The blood bubble once more before it became still in its casing.

Kneeling before the crafted altar, the body that had once belonged to a small-town girl named Shelley Simon set the chalice down silently, raising her coal-dark eyes to stare at the bare wall in front of her.

"We won't fail."

**00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000**

**Dun-dun-dun!**

**The mystery demon is revealed!**

**I always like Shelley, and I was really bummed when they never brought her back for any of the other seasons. So, I have resurrected her. For my own intents and purposes, of course.**

**Anyway, just a bit of an opening, so everyone knows where the story is at the moment. Hoping to have an update up shortly, so please let me know what you guys think!**

**Love you as always!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Tell Me: A Second Chances Sequel**

**A.N.: I'm so sorry for taking so long to update, guys! I can't believe you've all held on for as long as you have!**

**So glad to hear that you guys are loving the story. And I'm super excited that Shelley making a reappearance as a demon is being taken well. I always like Shelley and thought it was a total bummer that she just disappeared from the series after season 4. Anyway…I shall now shush up and let you get on with the story!**

**A.N.N.: Just wanted to throw out a congrats to Jensen Ackles and Danneel Harris on their marriage recently! While Danneel may not be Sophia, the two of them obviously make an amazingly happy couple. I wish them all the best!**

**Disclaimer: Once again…I own nothing. Which makes me realize just how sad I really am.**

**00000**

Whoever said that planning a wedding is one of the most fulfilling and joyous moments of a person's life…had obviously never had Haley James Scott as a wedding planner.

"There is no way that's happening, Winchester."

Dean frowned, his beer bottle stopping an inch away from his mouth, and he stared across the table at the short haired brunette. "Huh?"

Haley scoffed, shrugging her shoulders. "There is no way you are wearing your hideous leather jacket during the ceremony."

"What?" he asked, setting his beer onto the tabletop with a clank. He looked over at his bride-to-be, seeing her shaking her head with a smile, her attention only half focused on the conversation unfolding as she perused the company contracts in her hands. He turned his gaze back to Haley. "Why not?"

A smirk appeared on the usually perky singer's face, and she tilted her head to the side. "Uh, because it's hideous."

Dean's surprised gaze quickly turned to a withering glare, and he pointed an accusatory finger in her direction. "Those are fighting words, Hales." When she rolled her eyes in response, he threw up his hands, glancing over at Brooke for assistance. "She's your friend. Talk some sense into her!"

Brooke smiled, arching her eyebrow in that way that drove him absolutely crazy. "You're not wearing the jacket, Dean," she said, raising a hand when he started to protest. "Not because it's hideous, because believe me when is I say you wear it very well. But because it is a wedding-and MY wedding, at that."

"To me," Dean interceded, his tone similar to that of a child who'd been ignored for one moment too many.

"True," she replied, smiling wider as she leaned in closer to him. She could see his brow furrow ever so slightly, his eyes wary as they usually were when it came to her. But she caught the way his lips turned up the tiniest bit, and she shrugged. "But you agree to my terms, and I can promise that I'll agree to whatever post-wedding terms you and your inventive mind can come up with."

Dean pursed his lips at his proposition and nodded-as if he really needed to think that one through-before he shrugged, leaning forward and pressing his lips gently against hers. "Deal," he said with a cocky smirk, staring deeply into the set of hazel eyes he'd never get tired of seeing, before he settled back in his seat. He turned to look back at Haley, raising an eyebrow at her amused look, and reached for his beer again. "No jacket," he said, saluting her with his bottle before he took a swig.

Haley scoffed, throwing a glance in her best friend's direction. "Is that seriously all it takes?" she asked. When Brooke smiled and shrugged, she shook her head, laughing. "I'll remember that for next time."

Dean grinned, scooting back his chair and grabbing the empty wine glasses as he rose to his feet, maneuvering his way towards the kitchen. "I'm flattered, Hales, but you're a bit too tawdry for my taste." He smirked, dodging out of the way when a handful of popcorn was thrown at his back, and shook his head, unable to stop the laughter that escaped him.

If John Winchester could see him now….

Setting the glasses into the sink, Dean leaned against the counter, his eyes scouring over the waterfront view through the window. His mind wondered to his late father, wondering at just what his reaction to his eldest son would be right now.

Dean was no idiot-he knew his dad might not completely agree with his situation. He'd been perturbed, to say the least, when he realized just how many of Brooke's friends had discovered the family "secret." He'd worried about the "civilians" and the danger they were potentially in just knowing the truth. And even though, after time, he'd found himself growing fond of them all, that hadn't eased his worry in the slightest.

And while John had loved Brooke like a daughter-had even referred to her as such when he'd mentioned her in conversations with other hunters-Dean couldn't say that he'd be pleased about their engagement. While he wanted nothing more than for his son to be happy, Dean knew his father would never wish their lifestyle on anyone. Especially someone as special as Brooke.

The door opening behind him broke his train of thought, and he turned, making his way back towards the dining room, pushing his memories to the back of his mind. He nodded in greeting as Sam and Millicent made their way inside, hand in hand, followed closely by Nathan and Jamie. The latter of the quartet spotted him quickly, and made a running leap straight towards him.

"Hi, Uncle Dean!" Jamie cried in excitement, as if he hadn't seen him in months instead of just a day.

Dean couldn't stop the grin that spread across his face as he held his fist out for the young boy to hit with his own. He caught Brooke's eye from across the room, and he didn't miss the tender way she observed their interaction. He smiled, winking at her, as he threw an arm around the kid's shoulders.

"How's the wedding planning coming?" Sam asked, taking a seat on the couch and pulling Millie down next to him.

"Your brother is incorrigible," Haley announced without turning around.

Dean rolled his eyes, listening as the boy next to him laughed at his mother's tone of voice, and he knew he was no stranger to it. "She's the incorrigible one! Dude, I'm the groom and she is taking none of my suggestions. Not the food or the decorations or the music-"

"We are not playing something as deplorable as Black Sabbath during the ceremony," Haley said calmly.

Dean's head snapped towards her, a look of disgust on his face. "Bite your tongue, heathen!"

Brooke sighed, shaking her head. "Haley, you know how he gets," she said, giving her friend a stern look to which Haley merely rolled her eyes. She smiled, looking over Sam and Millicent. "Hey you lovebirds. Where's Mouth? I thought he was stopping by to go over the DJ-ing stuff."

Sam broke his gaze away from Millie and shrugged. "Uh, he was coming but he ran into an friend from school at the diner and was sticking around to catch up. Shelley Simon?"

Nathan laughed from his place in the recliner, remote control in hand as he tore his gaze away from the basketball game on the TV screen. "Clean Teen Shelley? Dude, Brooke, you'd better bust out your T-shirt and retake that abstinence vow."

Brooke scrunched up her face at Nathan while Haley snorted at her side. Even Sam and Millie were chuckling quietly, both obviously familiar with the inside joke thanks to a little book Lucas Scott had written a million years ago. She didn't have to turn around to know that Dean was trying very hard not to laugh, but when Jamie looked curiously around the room, he couldn't help it.

"What's a Clean Teen?"

Haley turned in her chair to look at her son, her motherly this-isn't-the-truth-but-you're-too-young-to-know look set firmly on her face. "It's a teenager with very good hygiene," she said, sending a warning glare in Dean's direction.

Dean snorted quietly into his beer bottle, his eyes taking in the amused faces of his friends, and he couldn't help the grin that stretched across his face at his "nephew's" next words.

"So if everybody's laughing, does that mean that you weren't very clean in high school, Aunt Brooke?"

Dean patted the boy's head affectionately, ignoring the warning glare his fiancée sent in his direction, and grinned. "Oh, trust me, Jamie. Aunt Brooke was VERY dirty."

He looked over to see his lovely brunette glaring at him, and he winked, grinning when a smile won out across her face, and she rolled her eyes.

God, life was good…

0000000000

"What do you think of Alex Dupre?"

Dean tore his gaze away from the evening newscast to peer over at Brooke. The dark-haired beauty was stretched out on the left side of the bed, her black boyshorts seeming to clash so definitively with her long, pale legs. An array of glossy photgraphs were spread across her lap, her right foot tapping an inpatient rhythm on the mattress.

He let his eyes roam over her slender figure until they reached her eyes.

"What do you mean what do I think about her?"

Brooke shugged, looking up at him. "What do you think of her? I mean, she's pretty, talented…she obviously has what it takes to carry the new line. She's a good choice, right?"

Dean shrugged, skimming the phots of Alex Dupre that was covering their bedspread. They showed a young, beautiful girl with a wide smile. She was tall and thin, with a figure that was definetely swimsuit worthy. But then again, so was the girl who that sat next to him on their bed. And, he had to say, Alex Dupre had nothing on Brooke Davis. "Yeah," he said, nodding with a shrug.

"Yeah, to carrying the line, or yeah, you think she's pretty?"

He looked up, recoginzing that tone of voice, and took in her arched brow, her smirking lips. He grinned. "Both," he said, watching as she opened her mouth to comment on his chipper tone, but he leaned forward, quickly capturing her lips with his before she could get a word out. He pulled back slightly, smirking his all-too familiar cocky smile. "But you're prettier."

Brooke laughed, her hazel eyes dancing in the light from the nighstand lamp. "Smooth answer, Winchester," she said, pressing her lips to his again before settling back against the pillows.

Dean shook his head with a smile, turning back to the television. His smile slowly faded away when his eyes caught sight of the headline.

**Missing Woman Baffles Police.**

He reached for the remote on the nightstand, raising the volume slightly as she face of the correspondant filled the screen.

"No new information on the case of missing local woman, Natalie Romani, who disappeared from a rest stop late Tuesday night. Video surveillance shows Ms. Romani leaving her car for the privacy of the bathrooms, but she is never seen returning to the vehicle. Authorities are remaining silent on whether or not they feel she did, in fact, leave of her own volition, but admit that they do not suspect foul play."

"Dean?"

Dean's frown deepened as he made a mental note on Natalie Romani, and turned to see Brooke looking at him quizically, concern on her make-up free face.

"Are you okay?"

He met her gaze and offered her a smile. "Yeah," he said, glancing back at the TV to see local sports scores scrolling across the screen. He shrugged. "You know what they say about old habits."

"Mmm-hmm. They die hard, or something like that," he heard over the rustling of papers and the shifting of the mattress, and he turned in time to see Brooke leaning towards him. Quirking his eyebrow, he settled back as one slim leg slid over him until she sat straddled across his lap. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her lips against his. He hummed contently against her lips, his hands sliding up her legs slowly to settle on her hips.

"You're a good hunter, Dean," she said softly after they'd broken apart. "You're always keeping your eyes open. It's your way of protecting me, I get that. It's nothing you have to downplay or shoulder on your own."

Dean opened his eyes to stare at her.

It still surprised him how easily she could read him. How easy it was for her to get inside his head and know exactly what he was thinking. She knew nearly everything about him, even the things he wished she didn't. She knew every fear, every doubt, every insecurity. Every dream, every nightmare. She knew things that would send any other girl running in the opposite direction.

And yet here she was.

"God, you're beautiful," he said, pressing a tender kiss to the side of her jaw as he ran a hand through her tousled hair. He felt her smile against his lips, and heard her chuckle softly.

"Corny line, Winchester," she said, her fingernails tracing lazy patterns on the nape of his neck, grinning in satisfaction when he shivered. "And totally unnecessary. You know you're going to get lucky anway."

Dean hummed against her jaw, his hands tightening against her waist. "But buttering you up makes it that much better." He captured her lips once more, tugging her tightly to his chest as he pulled them both down onto the mattress. His hands splayed across her back, teasing the skin on her lower back where her tank top rode up slightly, as her own hands trailed down his bare chest. Her dark hair tickled the skin of his shoulders and face, her familiar floral scent nearly overclouding his senses. God, he'd never get tired of his…

"You were really good with Jamie today."

Her whispered words caught his attention, and he opened his eyes to see her staring down at him, an inscrutible look on her face. He reached up, tracing the curve of her cheek with the back of his hand. "He's a good kid," he said, smiling fondly at the thought of the little boy with an impish grin he was all too familiar with. "It's hard not to be relaxed around him. He's definetely got that cute thing going for him…a trait that his Aunt Brooke sure as hell shares."

Brooke chuckled, the fingers of her right hand reaching up to trace the stubbled skin of his chin. "I had a dream the other night…of a little boy with your eyes and mouth…with my hair…" She raised her eyes to meet his, smiling softly as she shrugged. "It was a nice dream."

Dean was silent, watching the emotions that seemed to flash deep in her hazel eyes.

"Does that bother you? That I've dreamt of having children with you?"

He frowned. "Why would it bother me?" He pushed a strand of hair away from her face, letting his touch linger behind her ear. He could feel her apprehension; her doubt, and for the first time in quite awhile, he cursed himself for leaving her all those years ago. She's told him time and time again that he'd more than made up for his actions…but it was moments like these when he knew he would never truly feel that he had. "Brooke, if there's anyone I'd ever like to have kids with…it'd be you."

Brooke smiled softly. "Really?"

Dean nodded. "Really." He grinned. "Besides, can you imagine what a damn fine MILF you'd make?"

Brooke laughed, closing her eyes as she shook her head. "And the corny, smooth lines just keep coming," she whispered, leaning down and teasing his lips with her own. She felt his hand cup the back of her head, and she grinned when he brought their lips together once more, relishing in the fact that after all these years, Dean Winchester could still make her heart race.

00000000

"The Rivercourt."

Mouth smiled as he looked over at Shelley, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jacket.

Shelley smiled at him, her arms spread out at her sides as she balanced on the bleacher, placing one foot in front of the other, her blonde hair fluttering behind her in the wind. "I never really came here much in high school," she said, shrugging. "It was kind of…marked territory back then, I guess."

Mouth laughed, his eyes dropping to the grafitti-covered pavement under his feet. Beneath the love-filled ramblings painted in Peyton's familiar scrawl lied the words they'd painted all those years ago—the words that, at the age of eighteen and at the end of their high school careers, when the terrifying idea of the outside world and the future loomed on the horizon—the words that screamed the only thing they'd wanted to convey that summer night so long ago.

We. Were. Here.

"There's a lot of good memories here," he said, his voice tinged with melancholy. "Lucas and Skills became all-stars on this court. Nathan and Luke had their first showdown. Brooke asked me to Prom…Jamie learned to shoot his first basketball here, and sunk it with the expertise of an experienced player, much to Nathan's delight. Dean proposed to Brooke under that hoop last year." He smiled, thinking back. "Actually, I think he really proposed in her store in a desperate attempt to make her see that they were meant to be together. But he did it here, officially, after he'd gotten the ring."

Shelley laughed, her heels echoing agains the pavement as she leapt from the bleachers. "I always knew that Clean Teen act of her was phony," she joked, shaking her head when Mouth laughed. "Good for her, though. I'm actually a little surprised she's stayed single for so long. She was, uh…popular…in high school."

Mouth chuckled, nodding. "Yeah…but Brooke's grown up a lot since then. She's had it kind of rough since graduation. A lot of disappointments, a lot of letdowns. It all led to a lot of trust issues. But Dean being Dean…he wore her down after awhile. Now they can't get rid of each other. Not that they'd want to. I mean, by all standards, the Brean love story is just about as epic as the Naley one."

"Wow…that's saying something," Shelley replied, hands on her hips as her booted toe traced the writings on the ground. "And the uh…Leyton story? Obviously pretty epic in itself, too. If the baby and the world road trip is any indication." Mouth nodded, shrugging his shoulders. She took a step towards him, smiling. "And what about the Mouth love story? Anything on there? Any…damsel waiting in the wings?"

Mouth froze, his eyes meeting hers as she continued to close the distance between them. They were so familiar to him, but so foreign at the same time. They still held that same vulnerability that had drawn him in senior year, the same shadows that proved she'd been through so much more than she let on. But there was also something else there, a sort of gleam that led him to believe Shelley Simon was not the same girl she had been then. He shrugged, smiling. "No…nothing really going on there. There was a girl…sort of…but it's over now."

Shelley pursed her glossy lips, nodding, her blonde curls bouncing against her shoulders with the simple movement. She peered up at him, smirking, and shrugged. "Maybe we can change that," she said. "Just so happens there's not a lot going on with the Shelley love story either."

Mouth grinned, laughing. "That's hard to believe, Shelley," he said, raising his eyebrows. "Unless you retired those leather pants of yours."

Shelley smiled even as her mouth dropped open, and he laughed when she smacked her hand across his chest. He shook his head, his expression softening when she didn't immediately remove her hand. He watched as a curious frown marred her face.

"What's this?"

He looked down, watching as she tugged the chain he wore around his neck out from under his shirt. It was the protection charm Dean had given him last year, to ward against demonic possession. To the average eye, it seemed like a simple, everyday adornment, which is why he felt comfortable to wear it as often as he did. Most people didn't realize that the small little token—a pentagram settled inside a round sun—could provide such a strong amount of protection.

Unfortunately for Mouth, he knew first hand.

Dean had handed one to each of them after it was revealed he would be around to stay this time.

"Oh, uh…Dean gave it me. One to all of us actually. It's kind of a good luck charm that's common in his family," he lied, still surprised at how easily it came to him. He shrugged. "It was kind of a thanks-for-letting-me-marry-your-best-friend sort of gift. It looks pretty cool."

Shelley nodded, letting the chain slip from her fingers, and raised her eyes to meet his. There was a flash of anger or frustration in them, Mouth thought, but it was gone in a blink, replaced by the friendly flirtation he'd first spotted yesterday. She smiled. "So? Are you going to ask me out or what?"

He grinned, convincing himself that the flash in her eyes had just been a trick of light, and nodded.

Maybe he wouldn't be the last one alone after all.

000000000

"Ah, beer and potato chips. Certainly a sophisticated snack for a man of your class."

Dean rolled his eyes at the sound of the voice that could send shivers down his spine, ignoring the chuckle coming from the man that sat at his side. He groaned, swallowing the mouthful of chips he was chewing, and glared over his shoulder at this—as much as it pained him to admit—future mother-in-law.

Victoria Davis stood in the entryway to the living room, her arms crossed over her chest in her condescending way, as she eyed him with a critical gaze.

"Yeah, well, thanks for being so concerned about my eating habits, Methusala, but I think I'm good."

Victoria shook her head, her perfectly poised lips upturned in a smirk. "Well, excuse me for being concerned with the fact that my daughter might very well be ending up with an overweight, drunked sloth for the rest of her life," she sneered, runing a hand through her thick dark hair.

Dean smirked, patting a hand against his toned, flat abdomen. "Can't pinch an inch," he said, turning back to the television as hs reached for his beer. "And that's all thanks to a rigorous exercise regime, not all the nip/tuck action you're used to blowing your ailimony on."

He heard her scoff, and listened as the click of her heels made their way towards the kitchen.

"Nathaniel, it's always a pleasure to see you, even if the feeling is slighty dampened by the Neanderthal sitting next to you."

Dean looked over at Nathan, his friend shaking his head in amusement even as he greeted Brooke's mom with a smile. He glared at him, snatching the bag of chips between them away form his reaching hand. "Traitor," he muttered.

Nathan rolled his eyes, crossing his feet at the ankle on top of the coffee table as he turned his attention back to the game. What had started as a relaxing afternoon of watching basketball with his friend had quickly morphed into an entertaining banter between two people who loathed each other. Man, Haley was going to be sorry she missed this.

"Brooke sent me over for the recent sketches," Victoria continued, her glare fastened to the back of Dean's head. She scoffed silently. What did her daughter see in this…rat? Yes, she contended, she supposed he could be considered attractive. He was muscular and fit, and when he would occasionally come inside from working on that blasted car of his, covered in grease and wiping his hands on an old rag, she supposed she could see how easily he could steal a girl's breath away.

Then he would open that mouth…

"They're in the den upstairs," he said, not bothering to turn around to address her.

Victoria rolled her eyes, throwing her hands up in exasperation as she made her way to the staircase. "Yes, God forbid you actually have to haul yourself from the couch, Dean. You may actually accomplish something."

Dean waited until her footsteps had faded before he threw a disgusted look over his shoulder. "How the hell is that banshee Brooke's mom?" he demanded, ignoring the smile on Nathan's face. "Seriously. That's the meanest woman alive. And, you know, I may have only met Richard Davis once, a million years ago, but he is freaking vanilla compared to her. I don't get it. He's an educated, good-looking, successful guy. Not that I'm complaining, since Brooke is the result, but why the hell would he ever hook up with a ballbuster like that?"

Nathan shrugged, taking a swig of his beer. "Maybe he saw a different side of her," he offered. He grinned. "Or maybe he's a masochist. Can you picture her wearing leather and spike-heeled boots?"

Dean cringed at the unwelcome imagry, slugging Nathan roughly in the arm. "If I want to have nightmares. Dude, that was just friggin' wrong." Nathan laughed, shaking his head. "Why the hell is she nice to you?"

Nathan shrugged. "Probably because I'm not sleeping with her daughter."

Dean nodded after a moment. "Makes sense," he murmured into his beer, letting his gaze travel back to the game. He and Nathan sat in comfortable silence for a few long moments, letting the voice of the sports announcer fill the gap. He liked afternoons like this. This was something that he and Sam had never really learned to accomplish. Just letting the silence take hold, sipping a couple beers and watching whatever sporting event that happened to be airing on TV. He was okay with that. He and his brother bonded over different things. But he was glad for Nathan. Glad for moments like this. He sighed softly, glancing over at him. "She talked about having kids last night."

Nathan's head turned towards him, then, brow furrowed.

Dean shrugged. "I mean, it's not that the thought hasn't been there, in the back of my mind. It has, I guess. Way back there. We've just never really talked about it."

"Okay," Nathan started, his bottle grasped in his hand. "So, what's the problem? You don't want kids?"

"No, no, that's not it," Dean said, running a hand through his short hair. "Hell, it'd be great having kids with Brooke. More than great, really."

Nathan nodded, tilting his head. "But?"

"Hunters don't usually have kids, Nate," he answered softly. "You know, the dangers of the job and all that. Having a kid…bringing one into the world, even when you know just how evil it can be…Knowing that one day, I could not come back?" He shook his head. "I don't think I can do it. It leaves this sick feeling in my gut, man. Knowing that I could leave a kid without a father. Leave Brooke to shoulder the whole parent thing alone."

Nathan turned his body so he could face his friend, his back resting against the arm of the sofa. "Come on, man," he said, shifting his beer bottle to his other hand. "You can't think like that. I mean, where would any of us be if our parents had listened to that nagging voice in the back of their heads? You're a careful hunter, Dean."

Dean nodded. "So was my dad. Okay? So was a dozen other hunters that have ended up on the losing side of a fight. It doesn't matter how careful you are, Nathan. There's just no telling."

Nathan smirked. "Yeah, and there's telling whether or not you or Brooke could get hit by a bus crossing the street tomorrow. It's just the way the world works, man. There's always a chance that something bad could happen. It's no damn reason to live your life in fear about it, because you'll miss out on everything. Take it from a guy who knows." He shrugged. "No one knows, man. But the one thing I do know, is that the greatest thing Haley and I have ever done? The greatest thing that's ever happened to us? It's Jamie. No doubt about it. And, yeah, for the last six years, I've been freaking out abou all the bad crap that could happen to him or Haley or me. But, at the end of the day, when I'm tucking my son in at night, and kissing my wife…it seems like the furthest thing from my mind. It doesn't matter anymore, because the only thing that does matter is him and Haley. It's all a moot point when you're looking down at your kid, and knowing that he's yours, and come hell or high water, you'd do anything for him."

Dean stared at him, his friend's words somehow managing to soothe his doubts, while at the same time create an entire new set of them. He didn't know the first thing about kids. He didn't know how to change a friggin' diaper, or warm up a bottle, or read a bedtime story that didn't involve demons and death and violence. He didn't know how to be a dad.

But then the image of Brooke popped into his head. And she was glowing, with a brilliant smile on her face, her arms cradling a small baby. A baby that had his eyes and her smile, and a mixture of their hair coloring….

And just that image itself seemed to still his warring thoughts.

He nodded, bringing his beer bottle to his lips. "She'd be a great mom," he said, smiling.

Nathan grinned, recognizing the smile on his friend's face. "Yeah, she would," he said, shaking his head. "And the fact that her top would be pretty tight what with the whole breast feeding thing has nothing to do with it, right?"

Dean grinned, unrepentant. "Just an added bonus, my friend," he said, tossing the bag of chips at him when he laughed. He shrugged, settling back against the cushions and looking once more at the game on the television.

Him and Brooke as parents….

It was an idea that really thrilled him more than he thought it should.

000000000000

**Man…once again, I am SOOOO sorry for the delay in getting this chapter up! I can't believe I let it all go for so long! Vacation or laptop dying or whatever does not excuse my absence. You guys have been so great when it comes to this story, so I hope this chapter makes up for it. I promise not to wait so long next time.**

**Let me know what you guys think!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Tell Me: A Second Chance Sequel**

**A.N.: Sorry for the delay on the update. Hopefully this chapter makes up for it :D**

**00000000000000000000000**

"I think I'm pregnant."

Haley started, chocking on a swallow of her coffee, erupting into a coughing fit as she raised her eyes to Brooke.

The brunette stood at the kitchen counter of the Scott house, hands on her slender hips as she watched her friend cough and sputter. She pursed her lips, shrugging as she nodded. "Yeah. And see, if you react that way, imagine how Dean will!"

Haley waved her hand in the air, frowning as she took a deep breath. "Well, for one, don't spring it on him mid-swallow, and two…are you sure? I mean…when did you…"

Brooke sighed, moving her way to slide into the seat next to Haley. "Yeah…I'm late, Hales, and I'm NEVER late."

Haley smiled. "Then what's the problem? You've wanted a baby since you were 22."

"The problem is Dean, Haley. We are just getting over all the drama and heartbreak from before, and now this? I mean, we've barely even talked about the remote possibility of having kids."

"And what, you think he'll freak out and disappear again?"

When Brooke merely shrugged and dropped her gaze to the floor, Haley frowned, reaching over and taking her hand. "Brooke, that is crazy. I mean…that boy loves you. He would move mountains if you asked him to. And he could probably find a curse or spell to pull it off," she added with a laugh.

Brooke sighed, closing her eyes. "He's a hunter, Haley. First and foremost. John told me once that bringing a kid into that kind of lifestyle…" She trailed off, shaking her head as she took a deep breath. "He didn't really think it was the greatest idea. He would have given anything to keep Dean and Sam out of it. It was a mistake in his eyes. I mean…what if Dean thinks the same thing?"

Haley frowned. "Do you really think that?" She scoffed when Brooke shrugged again, and shook her head. "Look, I know you loved Papa Winchester, Brooke, and you respected him, but Dean is not him. I think that's pretty obvious. I mean, John was crazy restless when he used to visit for a week—Dean has spent the last year in Tree Hill, and he's perfectly content. Granted, it's probably got a lot to do with the fact that he's here with you and you guys are shacking up again an all that, but he's still here. Just because he shares John's DNA and is a bred hunter, it doesn't mean he thinks exactly like John and all the others. Jamie's crazy about him, and Dean's fantastic with him. He's great with Andre and the rest of the kids, too." She sighed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Having kids…Brooke, it's a natural progression in a relationship. Maybe you need to give Dean the benefit of the doubt. I mean, look at Nathan. He was probably one of the last people you'd ever expect to have had children, given his experience with parents. And he's a great father."

She shrugged. "Just go to the doctor. Find out for sure, and then decide what to do from there. Tell Dean. You two have been to hell and back, and through so much for something like having a baby to tear apart. You guys are an epic love story…you can weather anything. Trust me. Sometimes the most unexpected things can turn into the greatest things." She smiled. "I named mine Jamie."

Brooke nodded, smiling as she took Haley's hand in hers, squeezing it appreciatively. "Thanks, Hales," she whispered.

Haley nodded. "Anytime, Davis," she said, turning to let her gaze drift towards the sunlit window. She shrugged, lifted her coffee mug to her lips. "But I don't care if your ass is fat as hell, this wedding is going forward as planned."

Brooke smiled, rolling her eyes as she slid off her stool. "I hear ya, drill sergeant."

000000000000000

"And you're sure there's nothing?"

Dean bowed his head against the glare of the sun as he sat on the bleachers of the Rivercourt, his elbows resting on his bent knees as he held the cell phone to his ear.

"There's not a thing, kid," Bobby said from the other line. "There's no omens, no whispers on the street. At least nothing near you. Tree Hill is a quiet southern town right now, just like the maps say." He paused. "What's bothering you, boy?"

Dean sighed, running a hand down his face. "I don't know, Bobby. Maybe it's just the whole wedding planning, or seeing how stressed Brooke is about her new line. Who the hell knows. I just can't shake that feeling that something's brewing. Too much quiet is never a good thing."

"It's never much of a bad thing, either," Bobby replied. "Maybe instead of worrying about what might or might not be brewing, you should pay attention to that fiancée of yours. Your wedding is less than a month away." He chuckled. "Good God, I never thought I'd ever say that to you."

Dean laughed, nodding. "Yeah, tell me about it. You know, you're more than welcome to head on over early…I swear to God, something evil is lurking inside of Haley. Maybe you know some new demon-testing thing I don't."

"Haley? I'd be more worried about that mother of Brooke's. If I ever needed proof that evil existed, Victoria Davis is it." Dean could practically hear his friend shudder from over the phone, and he couldn't help but smile. "Anyway…just relax, boy. Take it easy. You and Sam can handle whatever may or may not happen. I'll keep my eyes and ears open, but word on the street is that nothing is coming your way. So just chill out, and enjoy your last few weeks of being a bachelor. I'll be there in another week or two, and if anything demonic pops up, we'll handle it then."

"Yeah…you're right, Bobby," Dean said, sighing. He looked across the court to see Mouth heading his way, a small, pretty blonde at his side. "I guess we'll see you when you get here." He and Bobby exchanged their good-byes, and he rose to his feet, shoving his phone into the pocket of his leather jacket. He nodded at Mouth as he made his way towards them. "You're slacking on your DJ duties, dude. Haley will have your head if you don't check in with her soon."

Mouth winced. "Oh, that's right, I was supposed to stop in there yesterday…how pissed do you think she is?"

"Why do think I'm here? I'm steering clear of that woman, believe you me."

Mouth laughed, shaking his head. "I'll stop in today…why are you here? Shouldn't you be off with Sam and Nathan? Planning bachelor parties and all that?"

Dean shrugged, pursing his lips. "Haley said all I have to do is show up and not cop a feel towards Brooke until after the ceremony. My part in the planning is strangely minimal." He chuckled, then raised an eyebrow as his gaze settled on the girl next to his friend. "Let me guess. You must be Clean Teen Shelley."

Shelley laughed, wrapping her arms around herself. "Wow. I guess high school really never ends." She smiled, nodding. "Yeah, I'm Shelley. You must be Dean, the lucky guy that finally caught Brooke Davis. Who failed miserably as a Clean Teen, might I add."

"Lucky for me," he replied, shrugging.

Mouth chuckled, nodding. "We're just swapping war stories before we grab a bite to eat. You're welcome to join us, if you like. Since you're avoiding Haley and all."

"Nah, I'm meeting Sam in a bit. Thanks, though." He watched Shelley from the corner of his eyes, confused at the strange vibe he was getting for her. Her blue eyes were fixed on him, and it made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. She didn't scream evil or anything like that…just…different. He couldn't quite put his finger on it. "So, Shelley…you in town for long?"

She smiled at him, not missing a beat. "A bit, yeah. Seems like all the Tree Hill-ers find their way back sooner or later." She looked at him again, smirking. "Lucky for you, right?"

Dean stared at her, nodding slowly. "Right."

Mouth slapped his arm, oblivious to the exchange happening next to him. "Well, hey, we're gonna split, go grab some food. Tell Haley I'll be by later tonight, and to take it easy on me. I fold like a cheap suit."

Dean nodded, watching as the two fell into step next to each other. Shelley turned her head and raised a hand in farewell. "Nice meeting you," she called over her shoulder, her blonde hair whipping in the wind. He smirked, giving her a small wave, before digging in his pocket for his phone. He hit the speed dial, and raised it to his ear as he watched the two of them walk away.

"Sam? I need you to check something out for me."

000000000000000

Alex Dupre was, in plainest form, an idiot.

But, God, did the camera love her.

Brooke sighed as she flipped through the glossy portraits of her company's new model. She felt silly, thinking that the girl she'd seen in the movies could possibly have been the same in real life. While she'd been expecting a courageous, kind young woman who could steal the scene, she'd been flabbergasted when she got a crude, clueless young woman who couldn't really steal anything unless it was headlines. And my GOD, was she stupid. What red-blooded American didn't understand a "that's what she said" joke?

She honestly made high school Brooke look like Tutor Girl.

But…none of that mattered. What mattered was that she was right, while her mother was wrong. Alex Dupre, regardless of her lack of smarts and…shady behavior, was the right choice for the face of Clothes Over Bros.

Now if she could just get over her annoyance of the perky little….

The front door slammed behind her, and she turned to see Dean tossing his keys onto the coffee table and shrugging out of his jacket. She grinned, turning on her heel and holding up one of the portraits. "How much of a genius am I?"

Dean smiled, walking towards her. "Is that a trick question?" He grinned when she hit him with the picture, capturing her wrist in his hand and pressing a quick kiss to her lips. "Kidding, kidding. But, yes, you are an amazing genius. What are we referring to this time, though?"

Brooke grinned, holding up the picture of Alex again. "How amazing does she look? She was so the right choice, I don't care what my mother says."

Dean's eyes grazed over the picture, and he shrugged. "Sure. Of course, if she looks amazing, it's because of the designer, not the model." He watched as she smiled softly at him, and he pressed a kiss to her cheek. He walked over to the refrigerator, pulling out a beer and twisting off the cap. He turned to her as he took a long swallow, watching as she shuffled the pictures into a neat pile on the counter top. God, he loved her…her goofiness and all. "Talked to Bobby today. He said he should be getting here in a week, maybe two."

Brooke nodded. "Good. It's been awhile since he's been around. You said the other day that Ellen's coming, too?" Dean nodded, taking another drink. "Is she brining Jo?"

Dean chuckled softly as he swallowed, recognizing the tone in her voice. He looked at her, smirking. "Yeah, she is." Brooke nodded, her lips stretched into a thin line. "Come on, Brooke, I thought we were over the whole you not liking Jo thing."

"It's not that I don't like her," she said, holding up her hand. "As far as hunters go, she's fine. She's tough and thorough. I'd just like it a little better if she weren't so thorough with you."

He laughed, setting his beer on the counter as he rounded it, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her close. "Trust me, Brooke, there was no thoroughness between me and Jo, ever. And there is no reason you should be uncomfortable or upset if she's there. Know why?"

Brooke shrugged, raising her eyes to look up into his.

"Because in a month, you are going to be the only person I'm paying attention to. And because no matter what may or may not have happened, you are the most beautiful woman I've met in my life, and you are the only one who could ever get me down an altar, let alone past 'I do.' That in itself should be confirmation enough."

Brooke laughed, rolling her eyes. "How romantic," she said sarcastically, smiling at him. "Just what every girl wants to hear."

Dean shrugged, smiling. "It's part of my charm." He leaned down and kissed her again, untangling his arms from around her and leaning back against the counter. He watched her pack all the fashion shoot photos into a binder and walk into the living room, and he reached for his beer. "I met Shelley today. At the Rivercourt."

Brooke looked at him from over her shoulder, her eyebrows raised. "Yeah? She and Mouth are still hanging out? It's been like a week."

"Yeah, she was with him." He fiddled with the lip of his beer bottle. "Let me ask you…did you ever get a…funky feeling from her?"

Brooke laughed, setting the folder on the coffee table and turning to him. "What?"

He shrugged, shaking his head. "I don't know. I just got this…weird feeling. She stares a lot. It's unsettling, you know?" He looked up at see Brooke biting her lip, fighting the smile he knew was just waiting to burst forth. "Oh, you're mocking my funky feeling? You, who when Jo gave me a knife the last time we were at the Roadhouse thought it was a metaphor for sex?"

Brooke's mouth dropped open, and she pointed at him as she made her way towards him. "You did not see the look in her eyes, Dean. You were too busy drooling over the shiny new stabber thing you got. The look in her eyes…she was undressing you mentally—."

"With the knife?" Dean smirked.

"Fine," she said, holding up her hands. "Fine. Mock me and my suspicions. But if you recall, they were dead on when it came to Lucas and Peyton. Or is Sawyer just a fluke?" She sighed when he simply rolled his eyes, and she crossed her arm over her chest. "So what kind of 'funky' feeling? Like evil funky or… 'what a faker' funky, because that's the only feeling I ever got around her. Fake virgin," she scoffed.

"Neither funky," he answered. "Hell, it's probably nothing. Maybe it was just seeing her with Mouth, and seeing how hooked on her he seems to be. You know he's not over Millie yet."

"Yeah, well…after you spend an afternoon with her and Sam, all hopes are pretty much dashed. Look, I'm not going to say that Shelley and I were BFF's in high school or that our interaction really went past Clean Teens. But she was pretty cool. And she and Mouth have a history, and as you and I both know, history is hard to beat. No matter how hard you try."

Dean nodded, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "Yeah, you're probably right. I don't know, I guess I'm just wound up. How the hell are you so calm and collected? It's your wedding, too."

Brooke smiled, holding up a finger as she crossed towards the hallway. "Yes, but I also am a girl, and have been planning said wedding since I was five. There's little pressure on my end. And, you know, there's little pressure on your end, too. As Haley said, all you have to do is show up. And say the right name, of course."

He smiled as her footsteps faded down the hall. "Whatever you say, Jo," he called, grinning when he heard the bedroom door slam with a bit more force than needed. He shook his head, reaching for his drink again.

Maybe he'd take Bobby's advice and just chill. After all, he had Brooke.

That's all that mattered.

0000000000

"Small town life…what a joke."

Shelley smirked as she took in the house the Winchesters had come to call home.

Quaint. Suburban. Puke-worthy.

She shoved her hands deep into the pockets of her jacket, letting her booted feet circle the perimeter of the house. She let her lungs fill up on the night air, relieved to finally be out of the presence of that idiot, Marvin McFadden. Mouth. She sneered. She would much rather have preferred to get closer to the group through Nathan Scott, or even Lucas. But with Nathan went Haley, who she'd learned through other demons wasn't as dim as he appeared. And Lucas…well…she supposed that bottle blonde wife of his wouldn't have let her near him. So Mouth it was. Mouth and his lonely, sad a little heart.

He was the easiest, she had to admit. One little glimpse from that first "one"….one little glimpse and he was all hers.

He'd also be one of the first to go.

She sighed, turning her attention once more to her matter at hand. Surveillance…boring, but it needed to be done.

She stayed a safe distance away, allowing the cover of night to shield her from the dimly lit windows.

The brothers were there all right. She could see Sam in the living room, sitting on the couch with one big, brawny arm slung over the shoulders of a pretty brunette next to him. She was that assistant of Brooke's…Muffin or something like that. His dark, shaggy head was tossed back in laughter, one large hand reaching over to take the girl's.

"What a joke…"

Shelley rolled her eyes, walking around the side of the house and letting her eyes travel to the bedroom window nestled there.

Dean Winchester…the rotten bastard should be rotting in a shallow grave somewhere. Not here. Not happy.

But instead, here he was.

He was lying across the bed, his arms wrapped around Brooke Davis, pinning her to his chest as they wrestled for a remote control. His face was nuzzled in the crook of her neck, but his smile couldn't be hidden. She could almost hear their laugher through the walls and glass, and she couldn't contain the anger that welled inside of her.

He didn't deserve this. He had taken everything from her…from them. He'd ruined it all…and now he had this?

She watched as he finally tossed the remote across the room, laughing at Brooke's wide eyes and open mouth that was quickly turning into a smile. He shook his head, leaning down and kissing her softly, his arms wrapping themselves around her waist as her hands came to rest upon his shoulders.

"Enjoy it while you can, boys," she sneered, turning on her heel. "After all…payback's a bitch…and since I am, too…" She chuckled at her own joke, tossing her hair over her shoulders. "You guys aren't even going to see it coming."

With one last disdainful look over her shoulder, she smirked, and let herself fade into the darkness.

**0000000000000**

**Okay…can I just say that evil Shelley? Totally kicks ass to write. And, oh do I love being vague when it comes to just who she is… :D**

**Anyway…at last an update! I'm already working on the next chapter, so hopefully I'll have it up before too long. Sadly, since my laptop died, access to a computer is limited. But thank you all so much for staying strong to the story! You all are the best!**

**Review and let me know what you thought!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Tell Me**

**Author's notes: Oh. My. God. I cannot apologize enough for the long wait on this update! These last few months without any kind of internet connection has been hellish. I can only hope that this chapter makes up for my absence. Thanks to all of you who have stuck with Brooke and Dean through this long period of no updates.**

** 0000000000**

"_Dean's cheating on Brooke."_

_Haley's head jerked up at Peyton's statement, the spoon in her hand stopping an inch from Jamie's mouth. She frowned. "Excuse me?"_

_Peyton nodded, swiping at a blonde bang that fell over her eyes. "Yeah. The rat bastard is cheating on her."_

_Haley's eyes widened, leaning back in her seat as Jamie's one-year-old face peered up at her. "Oh, my God. How do you know? Did you see him?"_

"_No."_

_Jamie let out an impatient squeal, his chubby arms waving to get his distracted mother's attention._

_Haley sighed, making a silly face at her son as she weaved the spoon into his open mouth. She chuckled, looking up again at the blonde seated across from her. "So, wait. You haven't seen him with anybody else? Peyton, I know you're not Dean's biggest fan, but that's a pretty serious accusation."_

_Peyton narrowed her eyes. "He's going on yet another hunting trip with his dad, Haley. That's three this month alone. __Three.__ And when I asked Brooke about it, all she said was that it's a 'bonding' thing."_

"_So?"_

"_So?" Peyton protested, reaching across the table to grab a piece of fruit from Jamie's plate. "Haley, any more bonding between Dean and his dad, we're going to have an incestuous __Brokeback Mountain __on our hands." She ignored Haley's look of disgust. "He's hiding something, Haley. And Brooke is either completely clueless to catch on or her tolerance level has gone way up since senior year."_

_Haley sighed. "Okay. So what? Do we confront him?"_

"_What, so he can lie to us? No, we need cold, hard proof. We need to catch him in the act." She grinned, popping an orange slice in her mouth. "We're going hunting."_

"_You know, I'm no expert in infidelity, Peyton, but isn't this place a little too…ick…to be a rendezvous joint?"_

_Peyton scoffed, tapping her fingers against the Comet's steering wheel, her blue eyes trained on the very familiar Impala that was parked in front of an old abandoned warehouse._

_After finding exactly where Dean's supposed "hunting" trip was taking place, it wasn't hard to spot his car in the one streetlight town._

"_Well, that's Metallicar."_

_Haley snorted, the bag of potato chips in her hand rustling as she shifted in the passenger seat. "You know, he hates it when you call it that."_

"_Haley, he is cheating on our best friend. I don't care if he hates it or not."_

"_We don't know he's cheating."_

_Peyton shrugged. "Then let's find out," she said, throwing open her door despite Haley's protests._

"_Peyton!"_

_The door to the Comet slammed shut as Haley hurried after her, the sound of her tennis shoes echoing down the darkened street._

"_Peyton, this is trespassing. __Criminal __trespassing. We could go to jail!"_

_Peyton scoffed over her shoulder as she hopped the curb, peeking in the backseat of the Impala. "Quite being such a mom. Don't you want to know?"_

_Haley whined in the back of her throat, her eyes taking in the various smashed and darkened windows of the looming building before them; the heavy metal chain that had been cut from the door handles. "Yeah," she said reluctantly, wrapping her arms around her waist as she followed Peyton through the door. "You do realize this is the kind of place that horrible, slasher events happen, right? We could be walking into a murder, Peyton! Dean could be strung up in here somewhere by some maniac wielding n ax."_

_Peyton grinned over her shoulder. "Well, that would make my life much easier, huh?" She rolled her eyes at Haley's shocked gaze, waving a hand to quiet any further panicked ramblings from her friend. _

_Haley quickly snatched her hand, crushing it between her own as she sidled up next to her, following her every step. "I am a mother….remember that. When we are being massacred and tortured, remember that it was you that left Jamie without a mother."_

_They froze at the sound of a man's voice, and their heads turned towards the other end of the hall. Exchanging a quick glance, they made their way down the hall, Dean's deep baritone getting clearer with every step._

"_She's delusional," they heard him say. "She's living in this fantasy where she thinks this whole thing is actually still working. It's pretty pathetic, If you ask me."_

_Haley gasped, shoving Peyton's hand away when it covered her mouth. "Oh, my God, you were right," she whispered furiously. "Do you hear him? He's calling Brooke pathetic. I freaking had him over for dinner last week. The jerk!"_

_Peyton smirked, giving her a proud I-told-you-so look. She opened her mouth to reply, but once she saw Haley starting to take a quick step towards the half open door, she grabbed her arm fiercely. "Haley, wait."_

"_No, you wanted proof, let's get it." She shook off Peyton's grip and stormed to the door, shoving it open with a loud bang, Peyton hot on her heels. _

_She watched as Dean spun towards them, his rugged face morphing from cautious wariness to complete shock at the sight of them._

"_Oh, yeah. Caught you red-handed, you lousy piece of scum," Haley said, glaring at the man that had become such an integral part of her family over the last several months. She felt Peyton grabbing onto her arm, but she shook her off, her ponytail whipping around her face as she moved. _

"_What the hell are you two doing here?" Dean demanded._

_Haley laughed harshly, shaking Peyton off again. "Oh, yeah, you weren't planning on us crashing your little tryst, huh? Just though you could play around behind Brooke's back, give her the old father-son bonding story and be done with it? No consequences, no repercussions, no thought at all to how much this will break Brooke's heart. You, of all people, Dean! With your heartfelt 'love' for Brooke? What happened? Small town life get too much for you? Did Brooke get boring? Just decided, 'oh hey, why not? Tree Hill folk are so simple and stupid, no one will even notice.' Well, wrong there, buster. We Tree Hill folk stick together and have got each other's backs. You cheat on Brooke, you sure as hell are gonna make a whole lot of enemies. WHAT, Peyton?"_

_She turned, annoyance on her young face fading when she caught the strange expression on the blonde's behind her. She looked down to see Peyton pointing past her, and she followed the outstretched finger. She realized that in her blind rage, she hadn't even noticed the large object in Dean's hands._

"_Why do you have a gun?"_

"_Pretty sure I asked you a question first. What are you doing here?" Dean demanded. A quick moment passed after he asked, and he blinked as Haley's raging rant hit home. He narrowed his eyes. "Wait, you think I'm here cheating on Brooke?"_

"_Dean."_

_They all looked over to see John Winchester emerging from the shadows, an equally large gun in his hands. His grizzled face held a look of annoyed patience as he looked at his son._

"_Mr. Winchester," Haley said, frowning. "So, wait…this really is just a hunting trip with your dad?"_

_Dean cleared his throat, taking a step towards them. "Yeah, it is. Look, we'll talk about this whole 'cheating' thing later, but right now, you guys need to leave."_

_Peyton shook her head, stepping around Haley to glare at him, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. "Hold on. We're not going anywhere until you tell us what's going on. Hunting trip, my ass. What the hell would you guys be hunting in some abandoned dump like this?"_

"_Rats," Dean replied, returning Peyton's icy glare._

"_Rats?" Haley echoed, unconsciously raising herself to her tiptoes as she eyed the dark corners around her in fear._

_Peyton rolled her eyes, setting a steady hand on her shoulder. "Relax, Hales, he's lying. Something I'm guessing he's been doing a lot of since the day he met us, am I right Dean?"_

"_Dean," John said again, his voice tinged with a sense of urgency that had Haley frowning in confusion._

"_Haley, Peyton, you need to leave," Dean stressed, his eyes searching the darkened room as he came closer towards them._

"_No, not until we get a freaking explanation."_

_Dean growled low in his throat. "Peyton—"_

"_Dean."_

"_DEAN!"_

_The girls jumped at John's yell, and saw him raise his gun towards them._

"_Get down!" Dean yelled, motioning frantically for them to move as he raised his gun in their direction._

_Haley and Peyton turned, and promptly screamed at the sight behind them. _

_A young pale woman stood just behind them, her long blue dress covered in blood. Her dark black hair hung in ratty curls over her shoulders, her face distorted in a way that wasn't humanly possible. Her teeth were bared in a grimace, and her hands were curled into claw-like shapes as she reached for them._

_The girls grabbed each other as they both dove to the ground, a chorus of shots ringing out as their bodies slammed to the concrete. They watched in shock as a parade of shots hit the woman, and with a screech, she flickered and disappeared. _

_Haley and Peyton lied still on the ground, their breaths coming out in panicked gasps as they slowly rose to their knees, their hands still tightly entwined. They stared at the spot the frightening woman had just stood in, shock and confusion marring their faces. Slowly, they turned to gaze up at Dean and John._

_Dean glared down at them, slowly dropping his gun to his side. "Now will you listen to me?"_

_00000000_

"Do you ever think this is all some weird dream?"

Nathan looked over at his wife from his place on the couch, hitting the mute button on the remote. The voice of the local sports anchor cut off, and he arched an eyebrow at Haley's question. "What do you mean?"

Haley shrugged, one hand tangled in the hair at the nape of her neck while the other held a pen absentmindedly over her wedding checklist in her lap. "Nothing…I was just thinking back to when I realized the monsters under my bed were as real as you and me. Sometimes it still seems so far-fetched, even after all we've seen."

Nathan nodded, sighing. "Yeah, I guess. I mean, it's not like it was easy finding out. It sure as hell scared me to death, knowing that there just might be something out there that's more evil that my dad." He watched as Haley smiled, snorting softly under her breath. "Sure, Hales. Sometimes I think it could all just be some huge prank. But then I remember Jamie being kidnapped and a dozen other demon things that we've come across the last few years, and I realize that it's not." He saw her nod and turn her attention back to her checklist. "Why is it bothering you?"

She sighed, setting her pen off to the side. "It's not really…it's just…" She looked at her husband, smiling softly. "I love Dean. Really. I love who he is and how happy he's made Brooke. But then I think about how sad he made her when he left."

"He's not leaving again, Hales," Nathan defended.

"No, no, I know that. But Brooke just said something to me a couple days ago that just got me thinking."

Nathan waited for her to elaborate, then held out a hand when she remained silent. "Don't keep me in suspense here."

"Okay," Haley said, tucking her legs under her as she leaned towards her husband. "I'll tell you. But you cannot tell Dean, alright?" He nodded, and she sighed. "Brooke thinks she's pregnant."

Nathan furrowed his brow, sinking deeper into his seat. "Oh."

"Oh?"

He looked up, wincing inwardly at his wife's expression. "Yeah. Oh."

"No, no, this more than just an 'oh,' Nathan. Did Dean say something to you?"

Nathan shrugged.

"Nathan, tell me! I'm serious. Brooke is really freaking out about this. She is convinced that Dean's going to flip if she is. If you know something, you need to tell me now."

"It wasn't anything, Hales. He might have mentioned something about kids the other day, but it wasn't a freak out, really. I can't say it was any different than my reaction when you told me you were pregnant with Jamie."

Haley arched an eyebrow. "As I recall, you pretty much flipped out."

Nathan laughed, smiling. "Briefly, Hales. Which was the same for Dean. He had the same kind of mental process I did. What could go wrong, why he'd make a lousy dad, all that crap. But he came to the same conclusion I did—that it all means jack squat in the long run." He shrugged, meeting his wife's gaze. "He wants to be a dad, Haley. And he wants that with Brooke. So, yeah. Oh. That's my reaction. Because B. Davis doesn't have anything to worried about."

Haley smiled, sighing softly in relief, and settled back into the couch cushions as Nathan unmuted the television. She stared mindlessly at the scrolling sports scores for a long moment before she chuckled. From the corner of her eyes, she could see Nathan looking at her quizzically, and she shrugged, chuckling. "Sorry. I'm just remember the first time Dean changed Jamie's diaper and imagining a whole year of it."

Nathan laughed, shaking his head. "Maybe we should invest in one of those Nanny Cams. That footage would be golden."

000000000000000000000000000

"So, I'm guessing that the intimidating, towering pile with the note, 'No way in hell' are definitely not possible first dance possibilities?"

Mouth laughed as he looked over at Shelley, shaking his head. "Let's just say that Haley is taking the whole veto power over Dean a little too seriously. He's really into that Mullet-Rock stuff, and Haley thinks it has no place in a wedding. Especially a Brooke Davis wedding. She was actually kind of open to it all at first…until Dean thought playing 'Highway to Hell' as he and Brooke are walking back up the aisle was a good idea."

Shelley laughed, a sound that Mouth couldn't help but love to hear. "Yipes. And this guy is marrying Brooke?"

He laughed, shrugging. "I know. He sounds way out there, but he's not really. He and Brooke…you spend time with them together and you wonder why Brooke wasted all that time with Lucas, you know? They're just…meant to be." He laughed. "Man, that sounds total chick flick, huh?"

Shelley smiled, shrugging as she slid her feet closer to him. "I don't mind it so much," she said softly, peeking up at him from beneath her lashes. "You always were a different guy, Mouth."

The smile slipped from Mouth's face as Shelley moved in closer, his eyes on her lips as the inches closed between them.

The sound of a car pulling into the driveway shocked him out of the trance, and he frowned at the flash of anger that appeared in Shelley's eyes at the distraction. But just as quickly as it had appeared it was gone, replaced by a look of disappointment even as her lips broke into an embarrassed smile. He shook his head, blaming it on his imagination, and rose from his spot on the porch swing to meet Brooke at the foot of her porch.

Brooke sighed as she shut the door to her car, shifting the strap of her bag on her shoulder as she made her way to her house. She forced a smile onto her face when she spotted Mouth making his way towards her. "A little late, aren't you, Mr. DJ? The biweekly wedding meeting was yesterday."

Mouth nodded, ducking his head. "Yeah, sorry. I guess I completely lost track of time. Hopefully I didn't miss much." When Brooke merely arched her eyebrow and smirked, he nodded. "Right, of course I did. Haley's still a force to be reckoned with, huh?"

Brooke nodded, chuckling, and finally noticed the figure that had risen to its feet behind him. "So. I guess this really is a Clean Teen reunion, huh?" she asked, smiling.

Shelley laughed, nodding her head. "Yep. All that's missing now is cheap, iron-on T-shirts and…well…Rachel," she winced. "Though, from the backstory Mouth gave me, I'm guessing that's not so likely to happen." She shrugged, wrapping her arms around her torso. "It's good to see you, Brooke. It's been awhile."

"Mmm. High school. It all seemed simpler than, huh?"

"Maybe for me. But if I recall, the whole Brooke-Lucas-Peyton thing wasn't exactly simple." The three laughed, and Shelley shrugged. "Glad to see it all worked out, though. I hear congratulations are in order. I met the lucky groom earlier. Definite step up from Lucas, if I can be so bold to say."

Brooke smiled softly, absentmindedly twisting the silver engagement ring on her finger. "Thanks, Shelley." She sighed, looking over at Mouth. Her old friend held that same love-struck expression he'd housed for Shelley Simon back in senior year, and for the first time she could understand Dean's concern. Out of all of their friends, Mouth was the one it hurt the most to see heartbroken. "Dropping off playlists and CDs, I'm assuming?"

Mouth tore his gaze from Shelley to nod, indicating the box of CDs behind them. "Yep. They just need your final approval. At least, that's what Haley wants you to think," he joked.

Brooke nodded, smiling, and pulled her keys from her purse. "Yeah, yeah. You wouldn't think I was the bride or something like that." She laughed, walking past them to unlock her front door, grabbing the mail from the slot in the process. She turned to see Mouth lifting the box from the ground and making his way towards her, but Shelley seemed frozen to her spot on the stoop. "You're welcome to come in, Shelley," she said, tossing her hair over one shoulder. "We can catch up while Mouth does his thing."

Shelley smiled, shaking her head. "I'd love to, Brooke, but I've actually got a business meeting in an hour. There's an opening at the local newspaper, and as an out work writer, an income would be pretty amazing right now." She watched as the brunette nodded slowly, a look of apprehension on her flawless face, suspicion in her eyes. She smiled the most dazzling smile she could muster, tapping into every memory she could to set Brooke at ease. "Rain check, though? I've only heard Mouth's secondhand accounts of the past few years regarding Brooke Davis. Kind of dying to hear the whole truth, though."

After a moment, Brooke nodded, smiling. "Sure thing. Though I'm sure it's not nearly as riveting as Mouth might have dredged it up to be." She looked over at the man in question, grinning. "Anyway, it was good to see you again, Shelley. Don't be a stranger."

She turned to go into the house, trying not to eavesdrop on their quiet goodbye and promise to meet for dinner later. Why did she suddenly have a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach?

She shook her head, setting her purse and keys on the table by the door. She needed to stop listening to Dean so much.

She smiled at Mouth as he shut the door behind him, carrying the box of music CDs to the coffee table. "You and Shelley seem to be catching up pretty well."

Mouth smiled, a faint blush tingeing his cheeks. "Yeah. It's great seeing her again. I forgot how much fun she was to be around, you know?"

Brooke nodded, pushing a stray piece of hair away from her eyes. "So are you two a 'thing' now?" she teased, walking into the kitchen.

She heard his laughter as she opened the fridge, retrieving two water bottles. "I don't know. We haven't really talked about it. It's just nice getting to know her again. Maybe it means I'm not still hung up on Millie."

Brooke smiled sadly, nodding. "Maybe." She watched as he started unloading the CDs next to the stereo, and she sighed. "Well, while you're getting that stuff ready, I'm going to run to the bathroom real quick. You're welcome to whatever leftovers are in the fridge. If there are any. Between Dean and Sam, I'm amazed if I get to eat at all."

She walked down the hall to the sound of Mouth laughter, and she waited until the bathroom door was closed solidly behind her before she let out the sigh she'd been holding in. Closing her eyes, she leaned heavily against the oak door, fighting back the sting of tears she felt coming to the surface. She sniffled, walking to the large mirror that showed her reflection. She let her hand rest on the mirrored edge before she opened the medicine cabinet, her hand shaking as it grasped hold of the small circular container that was lying on the top shelf.

She opened it with a shaky grip, her eyes taking in the one missed pill in the center of the package.

She bit back a sob, closing her birth control pack with a soft click. She shook her head, fighting back the tears she knew she was powerless to stop. "Why can't you be the girl who gets the boy and the baby, Brooke Davis," she whispered to her reflection, watching the trail of silent tears make their way down her face.

She closed her eyes, and with a flick of her wrist, tossed the container into the trash can next to her, letting the tears run their course.

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**….Yeah…For those of you who are familiar with season 7 of OTH…that's the route the story went.**

**Hopefully no one hates me…because who knows how that whole storyline will end up. *wink***

**Anyway, once again, I apologize for my absence. I promise to never let an update take so long again, and I'm so thankful for all of you who have stayed strong towards Tell Me. You guys are amazing.**

**Hopefully you all liked the chapter. I'm busy at work putting the finishing touches on the next one, so let me know what you think!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Tell Me**

**A.N. Thanks for the reviews! I'm glad to see everybody still stuck with the story. And see? An update before a year! :-p Hope you all enjoy!**

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"Shelley Simon is clean, man."

Dean looked over the lip of his beer at his brother from his spot at Tric's bar, nodding his head. "Why am I not surprised?"

Sam shrugged, closing his laptop in front of him as he reached for his own beer. "Yeah, after graduating from Tree Hill High, she went on to the University of Colorado, got a degree in Creative Writing. She worked for various newspapers across the state for a few years, even became a member of the staff of one for a few months. She's barely had a parking ticket." He frowned as he peered over at his older brother. "Why's she bothering you?"

Dean shrugged. "I don 't know Sam…I just got this…feeling from her today at the Rivercourt. She just…rubbed me the wrong way, I guess."

Sam grinned. "That's what he said."

"Good God, you've been spending too much time with Brooke," Dean said, snorting softly. He groaned, running a hand down his face. "I don't know, man. Maybe I'm just on edge. Even Bobby said that there are no omens, no nothing."

"Maybe it's just wedding jitters," Sam said, shrugging when Dean looked at him. "Come on, Dean. When did you ever think you'd be this close to marriage? You're literally like, 3 weeks away from being a married man. After the kind of 'love 'em, leave 'em' lifestyle you led all that time, it's gotta mess with you a little."

"I thought about it everyday that I was with Brooke the first time."

Sam nodded. "Yeah. But then you spent four years trying to rid her from your memory with one night stand to one night stand. I'm not saying you don't want to marry Brooke. You'd have to be blind to not see that. But you also have to admit that you're used to a different kind of lifestyle. I'm just saying that maybe your mind is trying to distract you from the reality of the whole situation or something." He sighed. "We're hunters by nature, Dean. I'm not sure there's anything that can get us out of that mindset forever. Even when I'm with Millie, sometimes I feel it, too. It's just something you have to deal with." He took a swig from his beer bottle. "What does Brooke think about it?"

"She thinks I'm paranoid. Maybe she's right. It just seems off. What are the odds this girl—who none of them have even talked to since high school—suddenly just pops back into town and wedges herself back into things? You have to admit, it's off."

"It's a small town, Dean. She dated Mouth, right? From what he said they ended on friendly terms, so there's no reason why they wouldn't pick things back up. Maybe this time it really is just a weird coincidence, Dean."

Dean smirked, looking over at him. "How often does that actually happen in our line of work, Sam?"

Sam had no response, knowing with every fiber of his being that when it came to hunting, there were no coincidences.

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Brooke was sitting at the dining room table when Dean walked in that night, a half drank glass of red wine in front of her. He frowned as he tossed his jacket over the armchair, maneuvering his way towards her. "A full bottle of wine, huh? What's the occasion? Did you mom finally disappear to the furthest reaches of the planet?" he chuckled, shaking his head at his own joke.

She still was sitting with her back to him, and it wasn't until he was standing next to her that he saw her red-rimmed eyes as they stared through the glass patio doors.

"Brooke?" Dean asked, dropping to a crouch as he wrapped an arm over her shoulders, using his hand to turn her face towards him. The moment her eyes met his, he watched her face crumble, her lips quivering with a held back sob. "Brooke, baby, what's wrong?"

She was shaking her head, her eyes closing as her hand came up to cover the one that so lovingly cradled her cheek. She sobbed, feeling the trail of tears that were freely making their way down her cheeks now. She opened her eyes to s tare into Dean's, seeing his worry and his love for her expressed within them.

"I thought I was pregnant," she sobbed.

Dean frowned, stroking the hair off her forehead. "Okay…" he said. "Is this about the other night? The whole 'baby dream' thing?" Her face crumbled at the mention of the dream, and he smiled, shaking his head. "Brooke, hey, it's alright. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that that's what I want with you, you know? To hell with the risks and the paranoid fears my dad forced into my head. You want kids, then we'll have them. We'll have ten of them, if you want."

Brooke sobbed again, shaking her head. "I'm not."

"Well, yeah, I kind of figured that, what with the tears you've got going on," Dean laughed. "So what? We'll just keep trying til it happens. I mean, come on, with how much time we spend in there?" He raised his eyebrows suggestively as he nodded his head towards their bedroom. He was surprised when his words seemed to only make her emotions worse. "Brooke, I mean, we'll try again."

"It doesn't matter," she said, pushing his hand away and reaching up to wipe the tears off her cheeks. She shrugged, raising her eyes to meet his. "When I went to the doctor they didn't just tell me I wasn't pregnant; they told me I was never going to be."

Dean frowned, his eyes searching her face. "What?"

"I can't," she whispered.

"You can't have children? They told you that?"

Brooke nodded, sobbing. "I'm sorry."

"No, no, hey, baby, come here," Dean said, pulling her into his arms, cradling her against his chest. He felt her shoulders heave with sobs as he stroked her back; her hair, and he kissed the top of her head. "Hey, it's going to be okay."

"No, it's not," she cried, her words muffled against his broad chest. "I really wanted to have babies with you. I wanted to have a family."

Dean nodded, taking a hold of her shoulders and pulling her from his chest, cradling her cheeks, his thumbs wiping away the traces of mascara that had smeared from her tears. "So we will. Okay. We'll get a second opinion. We'll get a third. We'll see the best doctors we can find. A priest, a shaman, hell a damn witch doctor, if we have to." He lowered his head to stare into her eyes. "Brooke…look at me." He waited until she met his gaze. "I love you. Okay? And after everything that you and I have overcome in this last year…we can get through this, too. Whether we have our own babies or we find another way—adoption, surrogacy—what the hell ever…it doesn't matter to me at all. Okay?"

"But…what if…"

"It doesn't matter," he cut her off. "Okay? Whatever way we end up having kids, it doesn't matter. We'll have a family, Brooke. A family doesn't always mean you have to be blood related, remember, you told me that. Hey…look at me." He waited until her eyes were fixed on him. "The only thing I've ever wanted is right here, in my hands," he said, his thumbs caressing her cheeks lovingly. "The whole kids thing? It's not a deal breaker for me, okay? You and me…we'll get through this. And I promise you, Brooke Davis, that we'll have that family that you're wanting. Alright?" She nodded against his hands. "I love you."

Brooke smiled, her fingers caressing his worn knuckles as she pressed her forehead against his. "I love you, too," she whispered, sighing softly as he pressed his lips against hers.

They'd get through this…

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"Do I have to be the ring bearer?"

Dean looked over at Jamie from his place behind the wheel of the Impala, his lips pursed as he shrugged. "Not if you don't want to," he said, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel. "Why do you ask, Jamie?"

Jamie shrugged, his young face turning to look over at him, the sunglasses identical to the pair on Dean's face almost too big. "Well, you weren't here last time I was the ring bearer. It didn't end so well."

Dean nodded, remembering the whole harrowing tale of psycho Nanny Carrie and her delusions of a happy family. "Yeah, that's right," he said, casting a sidelong glance at his nephew. "You know, you're kind of a trouble magnet, dude."

Jamie smiled.

"Seriously. I'm a little nervous just having you in the car right now. For all I know, a wild grizzly bear or something is going to come barreling towards us any minute. I'm starting to debate on making you ride in the trunk."

He grinned at the sound of Jamie's giggle, and he turned to look out at the road before them again.

Jamie had jumped at the chance to ride along when Dean announced he was heading out to pick Bobby up at the airport. It was an understatement to say the rugged hunter had become a favorite in the boy's eyes. He always raced to the mailbox every morning, eager to see if one of the many postcards Bobby mailed Jamie from the various cities he'd visited over the years had arrived. The wall in his closet was now covered with them, from cities ranging from New Orleans to Beaver Falls, Pennsylvania.

He sighed, glancing over to see Jamie staring out the window again, his blond hair gently blowing in the breeze from the open passenger side window.

It'd been a week since Brooke had found she couldn't have kids. No—that THEY couldn't have kids, he'd come to realize. The only way he ever wanted to be a dad was if Brooke was the mom. That was a fact he knew from the deepest part of his gut. Not that he'd thought he'd ever actually have kids. It had never really been high on his priority list.

Not until Brooke, anyway.

He knew he wasn't hiding his feelings from her very well. She'd always been good at seeing through his BS, even when he pulled out all the stops to keep her from doing so. It was a trait he loved and hated about her. He was a little disappointed. After his talk with Nathan, suddenly the ideas of having kids wasn't as farfetched as he'd always thought.

He knew she felt like it was her fault, not just some fluke in body chemistry. And no matter how many times he'd told her, again and again, he knew she still didn't completely agree with him.

But he'd come to accept the fact that maybe kids weren't in the cards for them.

But if anything, this whole thing had just made him love Brooke more.

He didn't care, he came to realize. He just cared about her. About what they had together. And if, at some point, by some miracle or whatever the hell happened, they were able to start a family together, then that was great too.

But right then, he had her. And that was all that mattered to him.

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"Uncle Bobby!"

Bobby Singer's bearded face burst into a grin when he spotted Jamie racing towards him through the terminal, and he laughed when the boy crashed into him at full force. He wrapped a meaty arm around his shoulders, amazed once more at just how much their lives had changed in the last year.

"Hey, there, boy," he said when Jamie released his iron-clad grip, and he smiled down at the youthful face peering up at him. "I have to say, you're a much better welcoming committee than that ugly mug behind ya."

Dean rolled his eyes, his hands buried in the pockets of his leather jacket. "You want to walk back to Tree Hill, old man?" he asked, reaching out and embracing the man that had, at times, been more of a father to him than his own.

Bobby pulled away, shaking his head as he looked Dean over. "You look good, son," he said, smiling. "Brooke's doing good with you. Where is Dimples, anyway?"

"Off with Haley somewhere, interviewing photographers or florists or something like that," Dean said, rocking back on his heels.

"They're cake testing," Jamie chimed in, shrugging when Dean turned a shocked expression towards him. "Momma just told Aunt Brooke they were looking at flowers so you wouldn't come."

"What?" Dean demanded. "Why would she do that?"

Bobby chuckled. "Probably because they'd end up charging for the free samples after you'd plowed through them, boy," he said, grinning when Dean looked at him. "You've got a bottomless pit in that stomach of yours. Haley's probably doing something smart there."

Dean scoffed, shaking his head and pointing a finger at him. "That's it. You're damn sure walking home now." He turned on his heel, leaving Jamie and Bobby to laugh at his back as they made their way back to the parking lot. "The freakin' groom, and I don't even get any cake."

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"Dean really should get cake."

Haley laughed, her hand raising to wipe icing from the corner of her lips as she looked over at Brooke.

Brooke smiled. "I mean it, Hales. He's going to be seriously huffy when he finds out we're cake testing without him." She chuckled as she took another bite of cake, her hazel eyes drifting to the seat next to her, where Skills and Nathan were busy digging into their own individual plates. "Even more so when he realizes they came along."

"We need a guy's opinion. Dean's pretty steady when it comes to food, Brooke. He'll eat anything. It's very much, 'wam-bam-thank-you-ma'am' with him and food. Besides, he can't tell the difference between high priced fettuccini and Chef Boyarde."

Brooke snorted into her fork, rolling her eyes even as she acknowledged the truth in Haley's statement. She sighed, leaning back in her chair, and she let her eyes gaze out the large balcony windows behind Haley. In less than 14 days, Brooke Davis was going to become Brooke Winchester. The thought itself brought a kind of a silly grin to her face. Hadn't she imagined that very thing nearly everyday after she'd first met Dean? Dreaming of a fantasy wedding, a small house in Tree Hill with a picket fence and a yard full of kids?

She felt the smile slip from her face as her hand came to slid along her flat stomach.

The yard full of kids aspect of the dream was shattered. She was finally—regretfully—beginning to accept the fact that she wouldn't ever be pregnant with Dean's baby. She would never get to feel her stomach grow as the months passed, or hear a tiny heartbeat mixed in with her own. She'd never get to see Dean grin and talk to her stomach the way Nathan had to Haley when she was pregnant with Jamie. Though she hadn't realized it then, now she knew just how envious she was of them. They had Jamie. A child that looked like them, acted like them. That was from them.

She and Dean never would.

"What's with the frown, Tigger?"

She blinked, pulling her gaze away from the window to focus on the concerned eyes of her friend. Haley was staring at her in that…Haley way of hers. Like she knew just what was troubling her, but she wanted to hear it for herself.

Brooke still hadn't told Haley about her infertility. Something about sharing it with her close friend would make it that much more final. She hadn't even told Peyton. Not that she really talked to Peyton much anymore. But even if she did, hearing baby Sawyer in the background would have killed her. Because she knew it wasn't something she could have.

She forced a smile, shrugging. "Nothing," she said softly. "Just…it's almost over, you know? The dress, the cake, the flowers…it's all almost done with. And then what? Dean and I will just slip into being a boring old married couple."

Haley laughed, the sound almost seeming to ricochet off the room around them. "Okay. First off, 'boring' is not a term that I would associate with you and Dean. Ever. And second, once the whole wedding part is over, you get to get to the 'after' part. The whole planning the future. You know? I mean, you guys get to start thinking about anniversaries and family/hunter get togethers." She laughed at the description, shaking her head as she took another bite of the chocolate cake in front of her. "And don't get me started on the kids. I'm telling you right now, I call godmother." She grinned, letting her teasing go for a long moment before she realized Brooke was oddly silent. She looked up, frowning instantly when she saw the look of pure sorrow on her friend's face. "Brooke?"

Brooke smiled, her hazel eyes rimming with tears as she shrugged, shaking her head nonchalantly. "Yeah, you don't have to worry about that, Hales," she said, laughing as she swiped at the tears in her eyes. She shrugged, looking at her friend. "I can't have kids."

Haley's fork clattered with her plate as it slipped from her grasp, her mouth merely opening and closing in a loss of speech. She leaned towards Brooke, her hands flat against the tabletop as she lowered her voice, her gaze darted to the two men sitting next to them, both lost in their own worlds as they joked back and forth. "What? Brooke, are you sure? I mean…have you seen anyone…"

Brooke nodded. "Yeah, I've seen everyone short of a voodoo witch doctor, and they all say the same thing. Kids just…aren't in the cards for me." She sighed, tilting her head as Haley reached across the table to take her hand. "Haley, it's fine. Dean and I are dealing with it."

"Brooke, when you told me you weren't pregnant last week…is that when you found out?" Brooke nodded. "Honey, why didn't you tell me?"

Brooke shrugged. "I don't know…it just…seemed too real if I did. Anyway, there's nothing they can do. It just, um…it just can't happen."

Haley sighed. "What did Dean say about this?"

"He said it's not a big deal. Which I don't think if completely true. I think he's doing that thing where he tells me what he knows I want to hear, but I really…really think he's disappointed. He doesn't want to show it but…I know Dean."

"Me too," Haley said, smiling softly. "And I know that he loves you above everything else." She tightened her grip on Brooke's hand. "You can't give up, Brooke…you never know. I mean, if there's anything I think we've learned since Dean Winchester came crashing into our lives, it's that anything is possible. You know?"

Brooke smiled, nodding as she wiped the last of the tears away. "Yeah, I know, Haley," she said. "Like I said…we're dealing. But I'm not making any promises that we don't kidnap Jamie at some point and start over somewhere new."

Haley smiled, and before she could answer, Nathan and Skills' raucous laughter drew their attention. They turned to see the two in an apparent contest to see who could stuff the most cake into their mouths, with Skills clearly winning, judging by the larger bulge of his cheeks compared to Nathan's.

Haley rolled her eyes, turning back to Brooke as the brunette laughed. "Why not? Clearly I've got two more just like him."

Brooke laughed, shaking her head.

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Bobby's bearded face burst into a grin when he spotted Brooke slipping in the front door, and he rose from his seat on the couch to cross the room. He held out his arms to embrace her, and he felt her press a quick kiss to his bearded cheek. "Hey there, Dimples."

"Hi, Bobby," Brooke said, sighing against the familiar strength the felt in Bobby's embrace. She'd always has a soft spot for the weathered hunter, since that day five years ago Dean had driven her to his junkyard and introduced them. She'd coolly passed every demonic test the man had thrown her way, from walking across a hidden Devil's Trap to guzzling holy water from an ancient water bottle. She'd merely smirked at him and kicked her eyebrow, Dean glowing proudly behind her. Bobby had simply shook his head and tossed her a beer, rolling his eyes when she managed to chug hers faster than Dean could his.

"Marry her," he'd said as he turned his back to join John in the other room, shaking his ball-capped hat as he went.

Who knew that sentiment would be true.

"Thanks for putting this old man up for the next couple weeks. I would have put it off longer, but Haley actually threatened me with physical harm if I wasn't here for the last few preparations. I'm starting to believe Dean's theory that she's possessed just a little bit. I could practically hear her head spinning through the phone."

Brooke laughed, shaking her head. "Aww. And here I was hoping you'd save some of those compliments for Victoria."

Bobby pursed his lips, nodding as he sighed deeply. "Trust me, Brooke. I've got a whole other set for your mother."

She smacked his arm as he sent her wink before he turned around and heading towards the kitchen, where Sam was sitting, a bottle of beer dangling from his fingers.

She watched Dean rise from his seat next to his brother and make his way towards her, his green eyes narrowed as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"Cake testing?" he asked, causing her to smile and shake her head. "I can accept a lot of things from Haley, Brooke. I'm even accepting that Zeppelin won't be making an appearance at our reception, but cake testing? There is a limit to my patience."

Brooke smiled. "At least it wasn't pie."

Dean pursed his lips, nodding slowly. "Yeah. That would have been an end to this whole wedding right there."

She laughed, shaking her head as she wrapped her arms around her fiancee's waist, burrowing her face into the comfort of his chest. His arms wrapped around her protectively as his chin came to rest against the top of her head. "You okay?" he asked softly.

Brooke smiled against his chest, nodding slightly. "Yeah," she said, looking up at him and pressing a soft kiss to his lips. "I think we're going to be fine."

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**The wedding party is coming together! I love when Bobby comes to visit.**

**So this is one of the last fluffy chapters before all the demon stuff starts getting underway. I mean, come on, guys. Can a wedding between Brooke and Dean really go off without a hitch?**

**Hopefully you guys enjoyed the chapter. I love writing Brooke and Haley, so much more than I do Brooke and Peyton. Their friendship just seems so much more authentic.**

**Anyway, let me know what you guys think!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Tell Me**

**Thanks for the feedback! Your reviews mean more to me than words can express!**

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The light thumping of music from downstairs drew Sam out his peaceful nap, his brow furrowing as his eyes slowly opened of their own accord. Frowning, he pushed himself onto his elbows, his eyes glancing at the clock on his bedside table. He frowned.

Dean had left with Bobby early that morning for a suit fitting. He'd opted to stay behind, since his fear of the wrath of Haley had spurred him to get his fitted days earlier. He'd wandered his way to his room, where he'd relaxed with an old book before he'd drifted off.

Nearly two hours had passed, he was surprised to see, and he was curious as to what all the commotion was downstairs. Dean and Bobby were going to meet Nathan for a few beers at Tric before they headed back, and Brooke had mentioned she was going to be at the store all afternoon working on her wedding dress.

Stifling a groan as he hauled himself off the bed, he raised his arms over his head, cringing when he heard various joints popping. Running a hand down his face, he trudged to his door, his frown deepening when he heard the unmistakable lyrics of Lady Gaga reverberating through the house.

He made his way down the stairs, his lips quirking up into an amused smile when he heard Brooke's husky voice singing over the voice pouring from the speakers, and he bit back a laugh when he rounded the corner.

Her back was to him in the living room, her long dark hair pulled back into a ponytail that bobbed with every movement of her head as it moved to the beat. Her whole body seemed to be in sync with the music, her hips swaying quickly as her feet propelled her back and forth across the room. Her arms were raised over her head, a long white piece of fabric clutched in her hands as they waved back and forth. A headless mannequin—the kind that always disturbed Sam for some odd reason, like a decapitated fashion tragedy—stood against the wall, various pins and tape measures scattered over it, seemingly forgotten by the designer as she indulged in her dance off.

"Stop calling, stop calling, I don't want to think anymore!" Brooke sang loudly, her eyes closed as she bobbed her head, the white fabric whipping back and forth in the air. "I left my head and my heart on the dance floor!"

Sam chuckled, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned against the wall next to him. It was moments like this that he realized why Dean was so crazy about Brooke Davis. She was beautiful, of course, he couldn't deny that. But it was who she was behind closed doors—fun, carefree, spontaneous—that he knew Dean adored. She wasn't afraid to make a fool of herself, especially if it meant bringing a smile to someone else's face. He'd witnessed numerous such incidents with Jamie over the last year.

She still hadn't realized he was there when she started turning on her toes, one hand waving the fabric over her head while the other clasped an invisible microphone. "Stop telephonin' me," she chanted, "I'm busy! Whoo!" She whirled, her arms extended over her head as her eyes opened, and she let out a surprised squeal when she spotted Sam standing against the wall, his handsome face grinning and laughing at her as she stumbled back, clutching a hand to her chest.

"Aw, come on," Sam laughed, catching her embarrassed glare as she turned on her bare heel and walked over to the stereo. "Don't disconnect because of me."

Brooke shut off the stereo, glaring over her shoulder at her future brother-in-law. "Har har har," she said, smoothing a hand over her hair as she turned to face him. "You scared the crap out of me. I thought you were out with Dean and Bobby."

"No, I got my suit a few days ago after receiving several frighteningly serious threats from Haley," he said, smiling when she laughed softly. "What are you doing here? I thought you were spending the day at the store."

Brooke scoffed, leaning her hip against the back of the couch as she ran the piece of fabric through her hands. "Mmm. That was the plan. But there's only so much of Victoria and her moping about the wedding that I can handle before I have to slap a bitch."

"Still complaining about Dean?"

"Yep. Eventually, I think she'll be happy for me, but in the meantime…" She trailed off, shrugging her shoulders. "Anyway, what are you up to? I didn't even think anyone was here."

Sam shrugged, walking over the sofa and plopping down, his eyes glancing over the various sketches that were scattered across the table. He'd seen the designs Brooke had come up with for her wedding dress, and it was understatement when he said they were amazing. She appeared to have enhanced them now, adding finer detail, and he shook his head in amazement as he settled back against the cushions. "I must have dozed off," he said, looking over at her. Her gaze was fixed on the wall across the room, a frown marring her face. "Everything okay?"

She looked up, her eyebrows raising. "Huh?"

"I asked if everything was okay. You seem a little out of it."

She shook her head, shrugging. "It's nothing," she said. "Wedding jitters, I guess."

Sam wasn't convinced. He turned towards her on the couch, running a hand through his hair. "Just wedding jitters?"

Brooke sighed. "Dean's paranoia is rubbing off on me, I think." He frowned, and she shrugged again, rising to her feet and walking to the fabric covered mannequin. "The other day he said something about that girl I went to high school with, Shelley. Something about how he got a funky feeling from her."

Sam frowned. "Yeah, he mentioned it to me."

Brooke nodded, her fingers seeming to work magically as they pieced together the various scraps of fabric. "Yeah, well, now he's got my mind going nuts, and now I'm getting a funky feeling. I mean, I haven't seen Shelley in years, so yeah, that probably has something to do with it. But it's just weird little things. Like, she won't come into the house. Which, you know, okay, I kind of get. We weren't all that close in high school, and she had a lot to do with the whole 'Brooke is pregnant' rumor that ripped through school our senior year. But it's just weird. And rude. I mean, who doesn't come in when you've just been extended an invitation?"

Sam seemed to freeze slightly as she rambled on, his gaze sliding across the room to the front door.

"And she gets this look in her eyes sometimes. Like you can't really tell what she's thinking. And then in the next second, bam, it's gone. So, because of Dean and his hunter ways, I'm assuming the worst. Then I think, well, she's trying to get back with Mouth, and it has been six years, give or take, so she's probably just nervous about what we're thinking. She didn't exactly leave things with Mouth clean cut, if you know what I mean."

Sam was only partially listening as he stared at the door, Dean's concerns running through his head. He'd done his research. Shelley Simon had checked out, 100%. She hadn't disappeared unannounced recently, her name hadn't been tied to any witness statements regarding brutal murders or kidnappings. She didn't show any of the signs that she could be involved in anything demonic.

But Brooke's observations were making him doubt his research. Shelley not coming near the doorway was a red flag.

A year ago, he and Dean had placed protection symbols throughout the entrances to the house. They were hidden—under rugs, behind curtains, under flowerpots. Dean hadn't wanted Brooke to overreact.

They kept demons from entering the house. Demons couldn't even step foot close to one of them. They would be frozen outside, unable to move an inch.

Exactly like Brooke was describing Shelley.

Something soft caught the side of his face, and he jumped, looking over to see Brooke smiling at him, that same piece of white fabric dangling from her fingertips. "See? He's doing it to you, too," she teased. "You hunters are going to give me stress-induced gray hairs. And, trust me, if that happens, Victoria will look like Mickey Mouse compared to me."

Sam couldn't help but smile, a chuckle escaping his mouth as his future sister-in-law sent a teasing wink his direction before turning back to her project at hand. Rubbing the back of his neck, he glanced over his shoulder towards the front door again.

Like Dean had said: How many coincidences existed in their line of work?

00000000000000

"I looked like a friggin' Blues Brother."

Nathan snorted into his beer, his blue eyes scanning the back of the bar as he shook his head, Bobby chuckling his deep voiced laugh next to him.

"I'm serious," Dean said, bringing his beer bottle to his lips as he glared over at his two companions. "I knew I should have fought harder for my jacket."

"Lost cause, man," Nathan said. "I had to hear Haley complain about your damn jacket for two weeks, Dean. Whether Brooke promised you unlimited honeymoon sex or not, that was one argument you'd never win."

Dean rolled his eyes at his friend's comments, while Bobby cleared his throat, setting his beer onto the bar with a slight thump. "So…you've got the suits, the reception hall, the flowers, the cake—," he ignored Dean's irritated grumble at the mention of the "cake incident"—"I'm assuming Brooke's covering the dress…what's next then, boys?"

"The guy part is pretty much done," Nathan said, shrugging as he shifted on the barstool.

"Yeah, Haley said all I have to do now is stay the hell out of the way." Dean turned to Nathan. "Seriously, dude, I'm thinking of spiking her coffee with holy water. There is something dark lurking inside your wife, man. I'm only praying that it leaves her as a human host after the wedding is over and done with."

Nathan laughed, shaking his head as his fingers cradled the neck of his beer. "You haven't seen anything yet," he said. "Wait until it's the week before the wedding, and she convinces Brooke to stop having sex until the honeymoon."

Dean stared at him for a long moment, eyes unblinking. "That's not even funny, Nate."

"Tell me about it. Thinking back on our second wedding, it makes me wonder how she ever got pregnant."

Bobby cleared his throat, louder this time, and adjusted the worn out ball cap on his head.

They laughed. Over the years, Bobby had taken on the role of father figure that so many of them had been denied as kids. The weathered hunter had become such an intricate part of their lives, sometimes Nathan tended to forget that he hadn't always been there. Sometimes the same went for Dean.

He looked over at his friend. Dean Winchester had come to be a brother to him. They joked, they drank, they fought, they razzed each other. He was often surprised to find that he had a closer bond to Dean—a man who he shared no blood bond with, no common DNA—than he did to his own brother, Lucas.

Though Lucas had been very absent the last year or so.

He shrugged, taking another swig of his beer. "There is the matter of the bachelor party."

Dean's eyes lit up at Nathan's comment, and his old familiar grin spread across his handsome face. "Now you're talking my language."

00000000000

The front door closed quietly behind him as Dean made his way into his house, shrugging off his leather jacket as he looked around the darkened living room. He stood in the entryway, his hands on his hips, as he let his gaze drift over the place he'd come to call home. He'd thought it time and time again, but the very fact that he now had a steady roof over his head—and was actually quite content with that fact—never ceased to amaze him. Since he was a kid, he'd never thought he'd ever have this. A home. Friends. Family. A woman that loved him and he loved just as much; maybe more.

It all seemed surreal to him.

He rubbed the back of his neck as he made his way towards the kitchen. Brooke must have already gone to bed, a fact he regretted a little. He always loved seeing her smiling face before he went to bed.

He jumped slightly as he rounded the corner, swearing under his breath.

Sam sat at the counter in the dim light, his laptop open in front of him, a steaming cup of coffee resting in his hand. His dark eyes snapped up to his brother.

"Dude, can you not sneak around like that?" Dean growled, shaking his head as he walked to the counter and braced his hands against its edge. "You're like a friggin' vampire sitting here in the dark."

Sam sighed, his jaw tightening slightly as he raised his head to meet his brother's gaze. "Did you know that Shelley can't come inside the house?"

Dean frowned, his spine straightening as he stared at his younger brother. "What?"

"I was talking to Brooke earlier, and she mentioned that the few times Shelley has been here with Mouth…she's never made it past the porch." He watched Dean's face tighten. "Brooke's brushed it off as them not having seen each other in years, combined with not really being friends in the first place. But, she doesn't know about the protection symbols."

"I thought you said she checked out," Dean said, his voice low as he cast a quick glance down the dark hallway that led to the bedroom he shared with Brooke. He crossed his arms over his chest and made his way to the stool next to Sam.

"She did," Sam replied, turning his laptop so the screen was visible to his brother. "By all accounts, Shelley Simon showed no signs of demonic activity. But after my conversation with Brooke, I backtracked a bit. Turns out, there were a hell of a lot of strange occurrences that happened i n the town Shelley lived before she turned up in Tree Hill. Animal killings, disappearances, crop death…all signs that something huge was rising in that town."

"How did we miss this the first time around?"

Sam shrugged. "We weren't looking for it. We were specifically looking into Shelley, not a town or a city. But, Dean, these signs…I'm starting to think that maybe they were making their way to Shelley. They didn't want to raise any immediate red flags with her."

Dean frowned. "So what, the demons hijacked her on the down-low? Since when the hell do they care who they take as a host?"

"Maybe since the host has a close relationship with someone here in Tree Hill," Sam said softly, shrugging when Dean's harsh gaze fell on him. "It's just a theory. But last year, the demon that kidnapped Jamie and those kids told Brooke that he had a plan, remember?"

"A plan that included her," Dean said under his breath, running a hand down his face as he sighed. "Have you mentioned any of this to Brooke?"

"No…not yet."

"Good, don't." He held up a hand when Sam opened his mouth to object. "Sam…we're getting married in a week. I know she doesn't show it, but she's stressed the hell out. She's worried about Peyton not making it back in time, getting the dress done, not to mention Bitchtoria and all the evilness that goes with her…she doesn't need to worry about this. Not yet. Not until we know more."

"She's gonna be pissed that you're keeping this from her," Sam warned.

Dean sighed, nodding. "Yeah, well…if she knows about it, she'd going to want to delay the wedding. And she's dreaming about this wedding, Sam." He raised his head, meeting his brother's gaze. "You, me, and Bobby…we're all that knows about this right now. I don't want Brooke worrying about it until we know what we're up against." His eyes scanned the various news articles Sam had bookmarked on his computer, and he shook his head. "We need to find out who she is. Fast. I don't think it's a coincidence this bitch possessed someone how as close to Mouth. The guy's more trusting than Nathan or Haley, and, I mean, what's better than that first high school fling, right? He probably hasn't given her sudden appearance in town a second thought."

"So you think she's coming at us through Mouth? If that's the case, we have to give him a heads up. I mean, Mouth hasn't seen that much demonic action, Dean. We gave him pointers and all that, but if he's up against the real thing, he won't stand a chance."

"I don't think she'll go after him yet," Dean said. "Shelley wants something."

Sam nodded. "All the more reason to tell Mouth. You've seen him with her, Dean. He's an open book. They've been spending pretty much everyday together. He doesn't see it as anything other than catching up with an old girlfriend. He lets slip the wrong thing—."

"I know, I know," Dean groaned, throwing back his head. "Dammit…why the hell now, Sam? Huh? They've had a freaking year. A whole God damn year to make a move. And they wait until now? Can they sense when things are going good for us?"

Sam shook his head, watching the distraught emotions that seemed to pass over Dean's face in a flood.

He'd spent all afternoon researching, and as the night wore on, he grew more and more reluctant to share his findings with his brother. In 24 years, he'd never seen Dean so at peace with himself than he had been this last year. Even though he bitched and moaned about the wedding planning and dealing with Psycho Haley, Sam knew Dean was loving every second of it. For the first time, Dean was getting a chance to feel normal. For the last year, he'd just been a normal guy, planning the rest of his life with the girl he loved. He'd transformed from the rough, battle-weary hunter he was. Now he spent warm afternoons showing Jamie how to fix a car. The two of them had played numerous basketball games against Nathan and Skills, grinning like madmen as Brooke and Millie had cheered them on from the sidelines, despite the fact that they lost to the pro players nearly every time.

Dean was amazingly happy…

But Sam knew that he couldn't keep any of this from him.

Dean had tried that once, and it had nearly cost him Brooke and Jamie.

Brooke meant a lot to him, too. And, as much as Sam hated to admit it, he actually liked the kid as well.

"I want Brooke to have her dream wedding, Sam. No demons, nothing supernatural. I don't want her to freak out about it. So it's us three, and we need to find this bitch and get some answers."

Sam nodded, closing his computer with a silent click. "First thing in the morning, then. We'll track down Shelley."

Dean nodded, reaching out to clasp his brother's shoulder as he rose to his feet. "Night, Sammy," he said softly over his shoulder as he made his way down the hall.

Tomorrow…

Tomorrow, he'd deal with the demons. Tomorrow he'd fall back into hunter mode. He'd track down the demon that was posing as Shelley Simon. He'd force her to tell him everything he needed to know: her plans, who she was working with, what she wanted with Brooke. And then he'd force her skanky demonic ass back to hell where it belongs.

Tomorrow.

But tonight, he crawled into bed next to a sleeping Brooke Davis, and wrapped his arms around her waist. He pulled her tight against his chest, and pressed a kiss to her temple, feeling her lips tilt up slightly in her sleep.

Tonight, he'd continue to believe that his days of hunting could possibly be over. That, after two decades of living on the road, of fighting evil from town to town, he'd finally get his happy ending.

He'd deal with everything else tomorrow.

**00000000**

**Yeah..sorry this chapter is on the short side. It was part filler chapter, part setting everything up for the next chapter. Hopefully you guys are still loving the story!**

**I know I might sound a little harsh on the whole Peyton and Lucas angle…but you have to admit that they kind of suck. I mean, come on, after all the hell Brooke went through in season 8, and there wasn't even a phone call? Bogus!**

**Anyway, hope you guys enjoyed! Let me know what you think, and I will catch you all later!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Tell Me**

**A.N. You guys are the shiz. For realz.**

**000000000**

"_Okay…you know you being all mysterious about me meeting your father is totally a turn-on, right?"_

_Dean glanced across the car at the gorgeous brunette sitting in his passenger seat, unable to stop the grin from spreading across his face when he saw that sexy eyebrow of hers quirking up in the way that he loved. "Maybe that's the whole plan," he said, turning back to the road as he maneuvered the Impala into a parking spot outside the Seaside Diner. "Maybe there's no father for you to meet. I'm just whisking you away to have my wicked way with you."_

_Brooke laughed, shaking her head as she leaned over and captured Dean's smirking lips with her own. "As if that would be the worst thing to happen," she said softly, sighing at the feel of his hand cradling her face gently, his worn fingers tracing a lazy pattern against her cheek. "But seriously. Is you dad such a hard-ass that you're that worried about him meeting me?"_

_Dean sighed, leaning back against his seat as his eyes drifted to the old fashioned diner in front of them. "He doesn't necessarily approve of this," he said, looking back at Brooke to see her tilting her head in curiosity. "Getting involved with civilians." _

"_Civilians?"_

"_Non-hunters, babe," he said, ignoring the way she rolled her hazel eyes. "Dad's just…cautious. Overly so. He's not real keen on the idea of getting people like you involved in the way we live. It's not necessarily the safest place to be."_

_Brooke nodded as he spoke, nibbling her bottom lip with her teeth. "So…he won't like me."_

"_He'll love you," Dean protested, reaching over and pulling her lip from between her teeth with his thumb. He let it rest there against her plump lip as she smiled softly. "And that's what he's dreading. He's going to realize that nothing that he says to me is going to change the fact that I'm nuts about you and not planning on going anywhere. So don't worry…he's going to love you."_

_She leaned forward, resting her hands on the gearshift as she tilting her head towards his. "As much as you do?"_

_Dean grinned, pressing a quick kiss to her lips. "If so, we are going to have a huge problem."_

_0000000_

_The gaze of John Winchester was a critical one. Dean certainly hadn't been exaggerating when he told her that. _

_Brooke had been surprised when she had first caught sight of John Winchester. Dean didn't resemble him much at all. While Dean's hair and eyes were light, John's was dark. Dean easily was taller than his father by at least 4 inches. _

_But it was the weary and cautious look on both of their faces that clearly pointed to the fact that they were father and son._

"_You're a sweet girl," John said, his grizzled face softer than it was when she and Dean had first taken a seat at the corner booth an hour earlier. His eyes flickered from her face to his son and back again. "You seem to have a good head on your shoulders, and it's pretty clear to me that you care about Dean. But I'm wondering if you're really grasping the severity of your situation here."_

"_Dad," Dean protested, sending his father a warning glare as he tightened his arm around Brooke's shoulders._

"_It's okay," Brooke said, resting her hand on Dean's knee in reassurance. She looked back to John, shrugging softly. "Mr. Winchester…I'm not going to lie and say that this whole…hunter thing was easy to grasp," she said, her voice low as her eyes carefully watched the waitress pass their booth. "Trust me, I had my total freak-out moment, but…I got over it. So the monster under my bed is real and kicking. That doesn't change how completely in love with your son I am. It doesn't change the fact that I feel completely safe when he's around. If anything, it only enhances that. I could care less if Dean was a hunter or a mechanic…all I know is what I feel towards him." She smiled, shrugging her shoulders as she felt Dean's fingers tighten on her own. "And it's going to suck if you don't like me, and don't approve of us. But…like I said. I'll have my little freak-out moment and I'll get over it. But I'm really hoping that I don't have to."_

_John sighed, raising his arm and resting his elbow on the back of the booth. Brooke Davis was nothing like what he expected. From that second he'd saw her in Tric, he was sure she was a naïve, spoiled small-town girl who would give Dean a few good weekends before he'd get tired of her. How was he to know that those "few good weekends" would turn into a lasting relationships. _

_Dean didn't throw the L word around. Ever. He made it a point to not get attached. It was an example that had been set by John himself. _

_But there was something about this girl that had changed all that, and God help him, he LIKED this girl. She was feisty, smart, and beautiful. She was, as much as he hated to admit it, exactly what Dean needed. _

_And by the way his son was looking at the girl next to him at that very moment, John knew that nothing he said or did would change anything. _

_He nodded, letting a rare smile grace his bearded face. "Alright then," he said, chuckling softly under his breath. "You know, Miss Davis, there aren't a lot of people that would stand up to me like you just did. There also aren't a lot of people that find out the truth about what's really out there and be as accepting as you are."_

_Brooke smiled, a pair of identical dimples appearing in her cheeks, shrugging. "I'm a multi-dimensional kinda girl."_

_John laughed, his eyes ticking over to catch Dean's broad grin, and he couldn't deny just how great it was to see his eldest smile like that. "So I'm gathering." He shrugged, holding his hands out his sides. "Alright then. I guess this is it." He smiled, looking at Brooke. "You know this doesn't excuse you making this knucklehead crash my car, right?" _

_The adorable peal of laughter Brooke let out was almost enough to make him take back the comment._

_Almost._

_00000000_

Something was bothering Dean.

Brooke knew her fiancée well enough to know that.

Leaning against the doorjamb to their bedroom, she watched Dean as he lounged across the bed, his brow furrowed as his eyes scanned whatever sheets of paper he held in his hands. His sandy blonde hair was tousled, evidence that he had spent some time running his hands through it. He was so involved in whatever he was reading, he hadn't even heard her approach.

Sighing, Brooke crossed her arms over her chest as she made her way into the room. "Do you ever wonder what your dad would think about all of this?"

Dean's head whipped up at the sound of her voice, his hands moving quickly to shuffle his research papers together. He hadn't even heard her come in. The last thing he wanted was for Brooke to spy his omen tracking or the various articles that tracked Shelley Simon's arrival to Tree Hill. "What?"

Brooke shrugged, shifting her weight on her feet as she stopped at the edge of the bed. "I've just been thinking a lot about John lately, you know?"

Dean rested his elbow on his bent knee, the surprise on his face evident as he looked up at her. They hadn't talked much about his father over the last year. "What have you been thinking about?" he asked, reaching up and taking a hold of her hand, pulling her down until she sat cradled between his legs, her back against his chest. He felt her sigh as he wrapped his arms around her.

"Do you remember how against us John was at first?" she asked. "He did not want us to be together. Do you ever just wonder how he would have reacted to us getting married?"

Dean was silent for a moment, letting his lips grave the back of her head as his arms tightened around her. It was true: When he had first told his father about Brooke—about how he was falling for her faster than he ever thought possible, and how he thought, maybe, he could take a break from hunting for awhile—John Winchester had been less than pleased. Sure, she was a cute girl, he'd said, but was it worth bringing her into this life? Could he honestly burden some small-town girl with the truth of what was really out there?

His comments had led to quite the blowout between father and son, and it was a fight that had lingered between them for quite awhile afterwards. John had made it a point, for months later, to not ask about the brunette fashion student and how his life was in the small town. It wasn't until he discovered just how much of the truth Dean had revealed to her that he realized Brooke Davis wasn't just a passing fling.

He'd loved her after he'd met her. He'd told Dean so himself. But he had still warned him about the dangers of being with a civilian, and had told him to be on his guard at all times. There was a part of him, Dean suspected, that still had not approved.

He sighed, resting his chin on her shoulder. "Your guess is as good as mine, babe," he said softly, watching from the corner of his eye as she turned her head to look at him. "Dad was a puzzle when it came to this. You know that. He could go from hot to cold in seconds. But…I know he was nuts about you." He saw her lips quirk up into a smile. "He wanted this to work for us, despite the way he sometimes acted about it. I hope he'd be happy for us, I guess. You know?" He grinned. "Happy I'm making an honest woman out of you."

Brooke laughed, twisting in his arms so that they were face to face. "Oh, I'm pretty sure it's the other way around, Winchester," she said, reaching up and wrapping her arms around his neck.

Dean winced, tightening his grip on her waist. "I don't know, Davis. I read Lucas' book…you were pretty friendly in your younger years."

Scoffing, Brooke shook her head, leaning towards him until their lips were centimeters apart. "Really? You're going there?" When he grinned, she shrugged. "Fine. Maybe I will just take Haley's advice on that whole 'no-sex-until-the-wedding' thing."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," he said, the grin fading from his face as panic set in. "That is not even a fair bargaining chip."

Brooke just smirked, shrugging her shoulders, her dark hair falling off her shoulders as she looked up at him. He nodded, cocking his jaw to the side as took in her beautiful face. "Okay," he said, scooting closer to her on the bed as his arms snaked further around her waist. "No sex, huh? You sure you can handle that?"

He saw her smile widen slightly, and she bit her lip as she nodded, her hazel eyes twinkling. He smirked, leaning forward and trailing his lips from her earlobe to the curve of her jaw. His lips barely brushed against her skin, and he smiled triumphantly when he felt her shiver. "You positive you could handle that?" His lips now slid down the crook of her neck, trailing over her collarbone onto the curve of her shoulder. "You seem a little tense there, babe," he grinned, feeling her hands trail up underneath his wife-beater and spanning across the expanse of his chest.

His teasing was rewarded with a small growl before her lips captured his.

For the rest of the night, Dean let thoughts of Shelley Simon fade to the back of his mind.

All he wanted right then was the woman in his arms.

000000000

"Are you sure these bachelor and bachelorette parties are the best thing right now, Sam?"

Sam looked over his shoulder as Bobby leaned against the door to his bedroom, his arms crossed over his chest. Sam shrugged, hefting his hunting bag onto the bed as he sighed. "Dean doesn't want Brooke to think anything is wrong," he said, unzipping the worn duffel bag and perusing the items it held. "Not until we know more of what's going on. And besides Bobby..,do you really think Dean would let us get away with no bachelor party? He's been talking about that almost as much as the wedding itself."

Bobby rolled his eyes, adjusting his trademark ballcap on his head. "So we can expect booze, poker, and strippers, I would assume?"

Sam grinned, looking up at him as he tossed two bottles of holy water onto the mattress. "If Haley questions you, I'd deny any knowledge of it." He laughed, shaking his bangs out of his eyes. "And, you know…I wouldn't want Dean to miss out on this. I mean, how many opportunities do we honestly have to part of the general populace of normal people?" He thought silently for a moment before shaking his head. "No…no, Dean deserves this. But, like I said…if Haley asks you ANYTHING about strippers…"

"Deny it all," Bobby said, glaring at him as he turned to head to his own bedroom. "I'm not a moron, Sam."

00000000

The plan was pretty simple.

But of course, simple didn't mean it was going to go off without a hitch.

Dean couldn't deny that his stomach was churning slightly at the plan he and Sam had concocted. How could he, when he knew that, at that very moment, Shelley Simon was with his fiancée at her bachelorette party?

Not alone with her, of course. And certainly not unprotected. Jo and Ellen, both of whom had arrived earlier that day and who had both been briefed of the discoveries the brothers had made, were sticking to her like glue. Ellen more than Jo, the younger Harvelle having been given the job of trying to get a feel for the demon possessing the young former classmate of the Tree Hill clan.

What the hell was he thinking?

At Sam's insistence, he'd given in when he suggested Brooke invite Shelley for the girl's night outing. "Isn't it better to know exactly where she is than wonder what the hell she's plotting out there?" It was an argument he couldn't dispute.

Brooke had been fine with the idea of adding Shelley to her group, albeit slightly confused at Dean's insistence after his "funky feeling" conversation the other week. But once Sam had pointed out that since the blonde's arrival into town, she and Mouth had been nearly inseparable, she had given in. Add to that Millie's insistence that the more the merrier, and Brooke couldn't have said no.

But Dean was wondering, as he sat in Nathan's backyard around the bonfire, if he should have said no. His mind was only half on the party and his friends that surrounded him. He laughed and smiled, and hooted and hollered when he deemed fit, but his mind was always on what was happening with his girl.

"Dean."

He snapped out of his reverie at the sound of Sam's voice, and he looked up to see his younger brother leaning towards him, his voice low as he spoke.

"Stop worrying. Seriously, dude…Ellen just sent an update, saying that everything's fine, alright? Jo's on Shelley like white on rice." He cringed, shrugging his broad shoulders. "Her words, not mine."

Dean sighed, nodding as he ran a hand down his face tiredly. "I know," he said, taking a gulp of his beer a he settled further into his seat. He looked up, a smirk spreading across his face at the sudden thought. "How's the girl's party going, anyway?"

Sam grinned, shrugging as he sat up. "I can pretty much guarantee that Ellen and Jo are the only sober ones there, Dean," he laughed.

Dean smiled, nodding again. "Good…Brooke needs to have a fun tonight."

"Seriously, dawg, how the hell do you have a bachelor party with no strippers?"

Sam and Dean looked over at the outburst, their faces smiling, even as Nathan peered across the fire at Skills. "Skills, dude…you need to let it go."

"Yeah, Skills," Dean seconded, raising his beer to him. "You insulting my stag party, man? Didn't you just kick all of our asses at poker an hour ago, or is the 300 bucks in your back pocket chunk change?"

Skills shrugged, raising his hands as he pursed his lips, the fire casting shadows over his dark face. "Now, come on…that was awesome. The beer is damn fine too. Not that Bobby would know anything about that, being that the old geezer turned it already." He tsked as he looked over his shoulder to where Bobby had passed out in a deckchair, his ballcap pulled down over his eyes. "Kick ass hunter, my ass."

"They just don't make 'em like they used to," Mouth commented, lounging back into his chair as he coaxed the fire with a stick. "But seriously, Skills…you need to let it go."

"Excuse me for wanting some real entertainment," Skills proclaimed, shaking his head even as the group around him laughed. "Seriously, man! You are getting married in like two days. How could not want one last hurrah before you take that plunge?"

"Skills, you're talking like marrying Brooke is a prison sentence," Sam said.

"Hey, if that's the case, lock the door and throw away the key," Dean said, feeling himself relax, a combination of both his company and the fifth he'd just polished off. "Marrying Brooke Davis is punishment I would gladly accept."

Skills grinned, leaning his hands on his knees. "Hey, no argument here. B. Davis is probably the greatest catch out there. But seriously. Strippers, dawg. It never hurts to look. We probably wouldn't have even had to pay for it. All we had to do was ask that fine piece of ass Alex Dupre, man." He grinned, shaking his head. "She takes it off for anything."

Dean groaned, shaking his head. "She's no Brooke Davis," he said, picturing his fiancée in his mind. "Seriously, man. Alex Dupre is hot and all, but there is no comparison to Brooke. You've all seen her naked, agree with me here." He raised his beer bottle to his lips, seeing Sam nod from the corner of his eye, before the odd silence surrounding the rest of the group dawned on him. He raised his eyes, seeing Nathan, Mouth, and Skills exchanging slightly confused looks.

"Wait, who we talking about?" Skills asked, frowning.

Dean frowned. "Alex Dupre. She hasn't done a single freaking movie without tossing her clothes in the corner."

Again, the three exchanged a look, this one cautious, before Skills recovered, laughing as an uncomfortable smile spread across his face. "Yeah…yeah, Alex Dupre. Who else?"

Dean dropped his beer bottle to his lap as he glanced over at Sam. His brother shared his confused glance, and he turned back to the group, leaning forward. "Wait, who are _you_ talking about?" he demanded.

Skills froze, staring at him with an odd deer-in-the-headlights expression, before his dark eyes slid over to look at Nathan.

"Skills," Nathan said, his low voice holding a twinge of warning.

"Skills," Dean said, leaning forward, his face still confused even as realization suddenly dawned on Sam.

"Oh, crap," he said under his breath, watching the scene unfold around him like a car accident. He flicked his gaze over to Mouth, and his fears were suddenly realized with the solemn nod the young newscaster sent his way.

Skills shrugged, his gaze downcast as he tried to avoid both Dean and Nathan's gazes. "Brooke and Nathan kind of made a sex-tape back in high school."

Silence followed his statement, and he turned his head when he heard the defeated sigh escape Nathan as the ballplayer hung his head, running a hand through his hair. Gulping, he turned his attention to the hunter across the bonfire, and he couldn't help but feel the chill down his spine at the hard look the man was sending in Nathan's direction. Clearing his throat, he slapped his knees as he rose to his feet. "Well…great party. I'll catch y'all later."

Skills was halfway across the lawn before he finished speaking.

Sam couldn't help but shift uncomfortably in his seat as he watched the staredown happening in front of him, unable to stop the feeling that, at that moment, demons were the least of their worries.

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**Okay…so this was pretty much a filler chapter before the real action begins…and I'm not entirely sure that I'm 100 percent satisfied with it. I really wanted to include Skills revelation of the Brathan sex tape, though, and I thought Dean's bachelor party was the place to do it. So please, let me know what you guys think. I promise an update—and a better one than this—before too long.**

**You guys are amazing!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Tell Me**

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"I can't friggin' believe this!"

Sam flinched at the anger he heard reverberating in his brother's voice, and even as he rose to his feet, he knew that he didn't stand much of a chance on stopping the fight that was sure to break out.

"Dean, man, come on, it was 8 years ago," Nathan pleaded from his place across the fire, his hands running down his face in frustration. "Brooke and I were both so drunk, we didn't even remember it."

Dean scoffed, tossing his beer bottle onto the ground. "Oh, and that just excuses it then, huh?"

"Dean," Sam said softly, grasping onto his brother's shoulder. His older brother merely shrugged it off as he took a step forward.

"Where's this little revelation been hiding all these years, Nate, huh? Obviously it was a big enough thing for you to make a freaking tape of it. Why not tell me before now? You know, like two friggin' days before my wedding?" He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Jesus Christ," he muttered under his breath.

Mouth, oddly silent through the fiery exchange that had been occurring for a good 15 minutes, cleared his throat from his seat next to Nathan. "Dean…it was a long time ago. Believe me when I say that the Brooke and Nathan back in high school were nothing like the ones you know now. I mean…they were pretty much miserable human beings."

"Dude," Nathan said defensively, holding his arms out at his sides as he stared at his high school friend.

"What?" Mouth asked, shrugging. "It's true."

Nathan sighed, raising his eyes to the star lit sky. "Doesn't mean you have to broadcast it to the whole damn world," he said under his breath, running a hand through his hair before he lowered his gaze to meet Dean's across the fire. His friend's face was a mask of anger, hurt, and disappointment, and Nathan honestly wasn't sure which bothered him most. "Look…we were idiots back in high school. Brooke and I…neither of us knew a thing about boundaries, and it's not like we had fantastic role models or anything. We just…we screwed up, man."

Dean merely shook his head, running a hand down his face as he turned to the side.

"Dean," Sam ventured, taking a step towards his brother. He nearly recoiled with the heat of Dean's glare that answered him. "Look…Nathan has a point. I mean, you've gotta admit…you've done some skeezy things in your past too." He held up his hands when Dean's glare grew. "I'm just making a statement, Dean. But apparently you AND Brooke have a few secrets from each other regarding your…pasts. And, since I doubt you've been 100% forthcoming with her, maybe you need to give Nathan a break here." Dean merely scoffed, and turned away. "Or not."

"Jesus Christ," Dean said under his breath, running a hand down his face as he turned on his heel to head back towards the house.

"Dean," Nathan said, taking a step towards him. He froze when his friend whipped around, glaring as he pointed in his direction.

"Nathan, for the love of God, if you know what's good for you, you will stay the hell away from me."

They watched as Dean stormed towards the house, his broad shoulders and back rigidly straight. The night was silent then, the fire crackling behind them. "It was 8 years ago," Nathan said dejectedly, dropping his head in his hands.

"You really stepped in it this time, you idjit."

The three men around the fire raised their heads to stare at the lawn chair that housed Bobby Singer.

"I thought you were asleep," Sam said, frowning.

"Boy, with all the small-town drama that goes on around this town, I'm lucky if I get a catnap," he said, pulling himself into a sitting position and positioning his ballcap higher on his head. "Great bachelor party, boys. Really. Haven't had this much fun since 'Nam." He shook his head, reaching blindly for the beer he'd placed next to his chair. "Here's hoping the girls are having better luck."

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"BODY SHOTS!"

A chorus of cheers followed Millie's announcement, and Brooke couldn't help but laugh as her usually meek and mild assistant lifted her shirt to expose her flat abdomen as she plopped herself down on the bar counter. She shook her head, swiping at the neon pink feathers her girlfriends had woven into her hair, and looked over at Haley. "And we thought your bachelorette party was crazy," she shouted above the music.

Haley laughed, throwing her head back as she down the shot that had been placed in front of her. She grimaced, shaking her head as she sat the glass back on the counter. "Uh, that's because we're actually legal this time, Brooke." She smiled and rested her elbows against the counter as she looked over at her friend. "You are oddly coherent there, Miss Bride-to-be."

Brooke grinned, shrugging her shoulders. "I just want to revel in it, you know? I mean, I've dreamed about this forever. Marrying Dean…I don't know. I just…want to be able to remember all of it." She frowned as her gaze traveled from the crowd in the middle of the Tric dance floor to the two lone figures that sat on the opposite side of the bar. "Well…almost all of it."

Jo and Ellen Harvelle had joined the festivities for the first few minutes of the celebration, but before too long had migrated to an isolated corner of the club, their trained hunter eyes watching the scene play out from their stools.

"What the hell is their problem?" Brooke asked, turning on her stool to lean towards Haley. "I mean, I get that they're technically like Dean's family, and that they all go way back, but they are like freaking wallflowers sitting over there. It is a bachelorette party, for crying out loud. As if people behave appropriately at those. Quit judging."

Haley chuckled as she looked at the couple in question, and she couldn't help but frown when she saw their intent expressions. She admitted it was odd that they stood so far behind the festivities, but she wouldn't call their expressions judgmental. They were watchful. Almost predatory. "Yeah," she said, turning back to Brooke as she shrugged. "They sure aren't the life of the party. I'll tell you who is though."

They both looked toward the dance floor where Shelley Simon was moving her hips in time with the music, laughing when Millie and Quinn—Haley's older sister who had become a bit of fixture in their lives since she moved back to Tree Hill—cheered her on in their drunken states.

Brooke laughed. "It's weird, right? Inviting her?"

"No," Haley said, shaking her head. "She and Mouth have pretty much been attached to the hip the last few weeks. And I liked Shelley, you know?"

"Yeah…you know, Dean a little suspicious of her."

Haley snorted. "Dean is suspicious of everyone. Remember a few months ago when he thought Chuck was a changeling after Jamie?"

Brooke laughed. "I know. I told him he was crazy. But you know Dean. He won't let it go. And, I hate to admit it, but I it does get me thinking. Do you think it's a little weird that she just…shows back up in Tree Hill, after nearly 7 years?"

"Weird like how? I mean, you showed back up here out of the blue, if you recall."

Nodding, she sighed. "Yeah, I know. I guess that one of the downsides to marrying a hunter, right? The constant suspicion."

"CAN I HAVE YOUR ATTENTION, PLEASE?"

Brooke and Haley turned their stools to face the dance floor, their faces breaking into amused smiles when they saw Millie standing high on a chair, a shot glass raised in her hand as she pointed in their direction.

"Brooke Davis…is getting MARRIED!"

A round of cheers followed her announcement, and Brooke laughed as she covered her face with her hand, leaning in towards Haley. "She's making _another_ speech."

Haley laughed, nodding as she clapped. "It's always the quiet ones."

"Now, I know that I haven't been around as long as some of you have," Millie continued, her eyes glassy even as she grinned. "But the last few years, I've gotten to work alongside Brooke, and feel so so soooo honored, to call her my friend. And in a few days, she is marrying Dean. You all have seen Dean right?" She rolled her eyes and waved her hand to indicate just how hot Dean was, a motion that left Brooke and Haley laughing. "Of course, I got the other brother. But, that is besides the point. The point! The point of this speech is just to say…Brooke. I love you. And I know that you and Dean are going to be very happy. And hot. Because, you know, you both are." She laughed, raising the shot glass high in the air as a tray was passed around the women standing around her, each of them taking one themselves. "TO BROOKE!"

"To Brooke," everyone seconded, and Brooke and Haley clinked their own glasses as they rolled their eyes.

The next few events seemed to happen in an instant. To most of the crowd, it was the alcohol playing tricks on their minds, but to the select few that had witnessed the true evil that existed in the world, it was all too chillingly real.

Shelley Simon threw back her shot just as the music roared to life again, so her inhumane scream was drowned out by the pounding in the speakers. The flashing strobe lights almost hid the steam that seemed to pour from her mouth and skin as she curled into herself, her blonde hair flying.

Brooke's glass fell to the floor in shatters as it slipped from her fingers, her eyes fixed on the figure of her former classmate even as she watched Jo and Ellen race over to her. They crowded around her, shuffling her away from the crowd as she writhed against their grips, whisking her into a back room.

"Did you just see that?" Haley demanded, reaching over and gripping Brooke's arm even as they both rose to their feet.

It was suddenly all clicking into place for Brooke. Shelley's face flashing with disdain briefly each time Dean was mentioned, her evasiveness, every little aspect that had piqued Dean's suspicion to begin in. "Oh, God, she couldn't come in the house," Brooke said.

"Brooke," Haley called out when her friend headed towards the hallway the two hunters had disappeared into moments ago. She cast a worried glance that the small crowd still engrossed in their dancing before she quickly followed, her heart racing in her chest as she realized they had absolutely nothing to protect themselves against the monster that had stolen Shelley's body. "Brooke!"

Brooke skidded to a stop as she threw open the door to the supply room, and she couldn't help but gape at the scene that laid behind the door.

Shelley—or the monster masquerading as Shelley Simon—was snarling at Jo as she stood frozen in the middle of the floor, the intricate Devil's Trap imprisoning her in the small area. Her face was red and blistered, her long blonde hair knotted and unkempt. Her once blue eyes were now a devastating shade of black. She screamed and flinched when Jo tossed a splash of water from the jug she held in her hands, the holy water burning into Shelley's skin.

"Suck it, bitch!" Jo shouted above the snarling.

"You knew," Brooke said, watching as the two hunters turned to look at her. Ellen moved towards her from her place against a shelf. "That's why you weren't drinking…you knew she was possessed."

"Brooke, sweetie," Ellen said, reaching out and taking her hand. "I'm sorry we didn't give you a heads up…but we need to get those girls out of here. Okay? Hey, Brooke!" She snapped her fingers in Brooke's face to pull her gaze away from the Trap. "Listen to me. I just called Dean and Sam. They're on their way now, but we HAVE to get your friends out of here, alright? I promise, we will explain everything, but right now, we need to get those people to safety. Make up some excuse. Say you're sick or the party is over, whatever you have to. Just get them out of here."

"I swear I will RIP you all to shreds!" Shelley screamed from her prison.

"NOW," Ellen finished.

"I've got it, Brooke," Haley said quietly behind her.

Brooke could hear Haley race back out to the front of the club and shut off the music, but she couldn't quite make out what excuse she used for cutting the party short. All she could focus on was Shelley, who now stood in the center of the Trap, her black eyes staring intently at her even as a smug, cruel smile spread across her face.

"She couldn't come in the house," Brooke said softly, leaning heavily against the door.

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"Look, you're wrong, okay?"

Dean looked in the rearview mirror, his stern eyes taking in the anger that appeared on Mouth's distraught face. He tightened his jaw, his hands clutching the steering wheel of the Impala until his knuckles were stark white.

He wanted to scream at Mouth; to tell him to start thinking with his upstairs brain and put all the missing puzzle pieces of Shelley Simon together until they made sense. But all he could think about was that demonic bitch being anywhere near Brooke…

And all he could see in his mind was Brooke and Nathan. Kissing, touching, moaning.

His mind was so mixed with anger, he could barely concentrate on the road ahead of him.

"Mouth," Sam said from his place in the passenger seat. "Look, I know that it's hard to hear. But Shelley—,"

"Is Shelley," Mouth reiterated. "She's Shelley Simon, a normal, beautiful girl who just lost her way and headed back to a place she knows is safe. She's not a demon, Sam! She's not possessed. Don't you think I would know if she were? We've been together nearly every second since she's been back to town."

"Think about those seconds, Mouth," Sam said calmly, always the rational of the two Winchester brothers, as he peered over at Dean's tense expression. "There wasn't anything—anything at all—that struck you as odd? Changes in behavior? Maybe she was a little too interested in how you all had been doing since high school? A fascination with Brooke? Fits of anger that couldn't be explained? Think, Mouth…I know that deep down…you know that something is terribly off about Shelley."

Mouth felt the indignant expression fading from his face as Sam spoke, his mind racing back to those few moments when he was so sure his mind was playing tricks on him. The flashes of anger that would appear in Shelley's eyes. Her odd fascination with Brooke and Dean and their relationship. How she made sure to never get too close to the front door of their house, almost as if she knew about those Demon's Traps that protected it.

"Oh, God," he said softly, falling back into his seat as he ran a hand through his hair, his heart sinking into his chest. "Oh, God, she was playing me the whole time."

Dean couldn't help the pang of grief he felt at the despair he heard in his friend's voice. He knew what it was like to be a pawn in some demon's grand scheme. Hell, it went with the territory of being a Winchester, he'd come to realize. But that didn't mean it didn't get any easier.

His eyes traveled to the rearview mirror, where the headlights of Nathan's Jeep followed closely behind him. He stared into them for a moment, almost willing that Nathan would be able to feel his heated gaze.

He knew he was being irrational. He knew that, as Nathan had said, it was nearly a decade ago, between two overly intoxicated teenagers were more lost than they were found. It was a meaningless act, a stupid stunt between two friends. It was really nothing.

Now if only he could convince _himself_ of that.

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Sam's eyes settled on Millie as soon as he entered Tric. His girlfriend was perched on a barstool, her hands wrapped around a large glass of water. Her mascara streaked face was staring blankly at the bar in front of her, her dark hair a mess as it curled around her face.

Until this point, Sam had been able to keep Millie away from the more supernatural aspects of his profession. And it was for this very reason: he hadn't wanted to see the hope and joy disappear from her. He hadn't wanted her to see just what evil truly lurked outside her front door.

"Millie!"

Her head turned at the sound of her name, and Sam saw her lips quiver as she rose from her seat and raced over to meet him, throwing her arms around his broad shoulders as she burrowed her face in his chest. Sam's arms wrapped around her small frame, his voice whispering soothing words into her ear.

He heard Dean come up behind him, and he pulled away from Millie when Dean snaked his arm out to gently pat her back. "Millie," he said softly, leaning down so he could meet her eyes. "I know you're freaking out right now, but we really need you to be calm, ok?" He waited until she nodded, her hands coming up to wipe at the tears that were welling in her eyes. "Ok…where are they? Where's Brooke?"

Millie sniffled and pointed towards the hallway in the back in the club.

Dean was headed that way before she had even lowered her arm, Sam and Bobby on his heels after a quiet word to Millicent. Dean's heart was racing a mile a minute with every step he took until he rounded the corner and saw Brooke sitting on the floor outside the storeroom. He could feel the relief coming off of himself in waves when he saw her unharmed, but as soon as she raised her head a the sound of his entrance, he knew that "unharmed" might not be the best term to describe his fiancée.

He walked to her, crouching down in front of her as his hands reached out to cradle her face. Even completely devastated, it never failed to surprise him at just how beautiful Brooke Davis was. Her eyes were red from her time crying, the makeup around her eyes smudged. Her hair hung in tangles around her face, and he had to fight the urge to smile that the pink feathers that haloed her head. "Are you alright?" he asked softly, his thumbs caressing her cheeks as he searched her hazel eyes.

Brooke took a deep breath, her eyes darting to the closed door beside her before coming back to look at him. "She's been possessed this whole time, hasn't she?" she implored softly, her voice a soft whisper in the hallway. "There was no…wanting to reconnect with any of us."

Dean shook his head slowly. "No, baby, there wasn't."

She scoffed, shaking her head. "I guess I should trust your instincts more often, huh?" she asked, smiling slightly when Dean's lips twitched. "What does she want, Dean? Who is she?"

"That's what we're going to find out," Dean replied, leaning forward and catching her lips in a chaste kiss before he pulled her to her feet. "I want you to go out there with Millie and Haley."

"No."

Dean glared at her, already shaking her head. "Brooke, you're not fighting me on this."

"Really? Because I think that's just what I'm doing." She crossed her arms over her chest even as Dean put his hands on his hips, his trademark move when he was prepared to put up a fight. "Dean, I'm serious. The…thing in there that's taken control of Shelley has been casing us for weeks. You cannot stand there and tell me that it has nothing to with me, Dean. Why else would she have chosen Shelley?" She watched as Dean's expression slowly changed from resistance to resignation.

"You're going to stand in the back, and not say a thing. Do you understand me?" She gave a quick nod, letting out a long pent up breath, and Dean sighed, shaking his head as he looked over his shoulder. Sam and Bobby stood behind them, their arms laden with holy water, salt, and shotguns. "Alright."

Brooke let them lead the way into the storeroom, her eyes instantly landing on the woman—no, the thing—that stood, pacing, in the Devil's Trap. Shelley's hair was in disarray, her once flawless face blistered from the constant onslaught of holy water that had been delivered courtesy of Jo, Brooke was sure. Once the door opened, Shelley stopped pacing, her lips turning up into a cruel smirk as she held her arms out at her sides, shrugging her shoulders. "Well, it's about time," she proclaimed. "Who knew the Winchesters could be such dilly dallies?"

Dean was silent as he stalked towards her, his handsome face set in an almost terrifying glare. This monster had gotten far too close to his family. His friends, his brother, the woman he loved…there was nothing about this woman that could possibly elicit any sympathy from him. "Who are you?" he demanded, coming to a stop just outside the Trap.

Shelley grinned, tilting her head to the side. "Shelley Simon, of course," she taunted, her blue eyes alight with just how much enjoyment she was having.

Brooke flinched when Jo stepped forward then, her arm jutting out to quickly douse Shelley with a splash of holy water from her canteen. Shelley's unearthly howl reverberated through the room.

"THAT was the last time, you bitch!" Shelley roared, lunging towards Jo only to be propelled backwards thanks to her prison.

"I think we'll be the judge of that," Dean said, reaching out and taking the canteen from Jo. "You're running out of chances here. Either you're going to tell me who the hell you are and what the hell you want, or I'm gonna douse you with so much holy water, you'll look like Kreuger for the rest of your life." His eyes snapped up when he saw Shelley peer around him, her blue eyes settling on Brooke in a fascination that sent a chill down his spine. "Hey! Don't look at her! Look at me! Who the hell are you?"

Shelley smirked, pulling her eyes away and looking at him. "Sonja."

"Sonja?"

"That's what I said, Winchester."

"Alright, so one down. What do you want?" Her smirk stayed in place, and Dean clenched his fingers around the canteen in his hands, fighting to impulse to toss it on her amused face. "Why are you here? Who sent you?"

"Someone who just wants to claim back what's his." Shelley—no, Sonja, said. Shelley Simon would never look at someone with that much hatred. "Something he's kept a close eye on for decades and has gotten tired of waiting."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Dean demanded, taking a step towards the Trap. "Quit skirting around the subject, bitch, and give me a straight answer. What do you want?"

Sonja merely crossed her arms over her chest, her pale face spreading into an all-knowing smirk as she tilted her head, letting her eyes graze past him and over to the silent brunette that stood against the wall, her face a mask of confusion as she tried to follow the conversation.

Dean felt his stomach sink, and he could swear his heart actually stopped in his chest. "You're here for her," he managed around gritted teeth, using every ounce of his strength to keep his anger at bay.

"What do we have for him, Johnny?" Sonja mocked, her face serene even as she kept her eyes solely locked on Brooke's shocked face.

"Haven't you ever wondered why you never really felt like you belonged around here, Brooke?"

Brooke's eyes raised to meet hers at her words, and she could hear Bobby's feet shuffling towards her in protection. "Excuse me?"

"Brooke, don't talk to her," Dean ordered, recognizing the trembling he heard in her voice.

"You've always been different. Never really felt like everybody else. Always wondering, 'What's so different about me?'"

"What are you getting at?" Brooke demanded, wrapping her arms around herself as she realized that everything she was saying was true.

"Brooke," Dean warned again, glancing over his shoulder at her worriedly. The last thing he wanted was for her to engage this monster.

"Didn't you ever wonder why Daddy didn't give a damn about you growing up, Brooke?" Sonja mocked, shrugging her petite shoulders. "Why he always looked at you like he had no idea how the hell you even came to be?" She tilted her head, smiling when she saw Brooke's face falter. "It's because you're not his."

"What?" Brooke rasped out, taking a small step forward as the three hunters turned their heads to stare at the demon trapped before them.

Sonja merely shrugged, her lips quirked up into a cruel smirk.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Dean asked, exchanging a concerned glance with his brother.

"Oh, sure, it was your Daddy's body doing all the work," Sonja said, pacing the confines of her small prison, talking as if she were merely discussing the weather, a motion that sent chills down Brooke's spine. "But who was INSIDE that body…that's an entirely different matter." She stopped pacing, and stood to face the brunette who had slowly moved to stand next to her fiancée. "You, my dear Brooke Davis…are not completely human. On the contrary, you have some highly powerful demon blood coursing through those pretty little veins of yours."

Brooke froze, her hazel eyes wide in fear and bewilderment, shaking her head back and forth as she brought a hand up to her throat. "You're lying."

"Really? Can you really be so sure of that?"

"That's enough," Sam interjected, as he took a step forward and tried to shield Brooke with his body, but her hand on his arm defeated his intent as she stepped around him. He couldn't help but be concerned by the confused expression on his future sister-in-law's face. A mixture of fear, disbelief, and—perhaps the most startling—realization.

"Who the hell are you?" Brooke demanded, racing up the edge of the Devil's Trap. She skidded to a stop when Dean's arm shot out and snaked around her waist, holding her in place.

"Like I said: I'm just the messenger."

"Messenger for who?" Dean asked, his arm tightening around Brooke's waist when he felt her tremble under his touch. He had to get her out of here…but he needed all the information.

A cruel teasing smile appeared on Sonja's face then, as her eyes met his. "You have every reason to be terrified, Dean…with as many of our family that you've sent back to Hell? Daddy Dearest has special plans for your demise. And it will be slow. And painful. And I'll be glad to just sit back and watch."

"The only thing you're going to be watching is the earth flying back on your way back to Hell you, bitch," Dean growled, feeling the woman next to him crumbling in his arms. He wrapped his other arm protectively around her as he turned them away, glancing at his brother. "Take care of her for me," he said, cradling Brooke against his side as he rushed them to the door. "And make it hurt."

"My pleasure," Sam said, his gaze dark as he slowly stalked towards the monster in front of him, his eyes watching her angry, panicked face when Bobby's deep voice started to reverberate through the room in Latin.

But despite the pleasure he got from watching another demon return to their rightful place, it couldn't stop the feeling of enormous dread that was welling in Sam's gut.

Something huge was coming.

And he honestly wasn't sure if they could stop it.

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**Oh, dear…how long has it been? I'm the worst ever! Thank you guys so much for sticking in with me! I hope this chapter meets your approval. What do you think? R&R and let me know!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Tell Me**

**A.N. Oh. Dear. God. I CANNOT believe how long it's taken me to update. I fail. Like…epically. I'm so sorry, lovelies, and I thank you for sticking by the story in my absence! Hopefully this update makes up for it!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing…Seriously, if I owned Dean…well…let's just say things would be VERY different.**

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Victoria Davis couldn't help but slam the door to her Chevy Camaro, tossing her dark hair over her shoulder as she glared up at the house that her daughter had come to call home. The nerve of that…that…_heathen._ Did he really think he could just DEMAND that she stop everything and race over to the house, not even asking if she was in the middle of something?

Not that she had been. It was less than a day until her only daughter got married. The only thing she'd been in the middle of was a pity party with General Hospital and the hotel mini-bar. But then Dean had called, that weasel of a man that she would soon be forced to call son-in-law, his voice nearly quivering with anger and God knows what other emotion, telling her that if she knew what was good for her, she'd race over to Brooke's house right that second. And then he'd had the nerve to actually hang up on her before she could even utter a reply.

What a lunkhead.

Sighing, Victoria made her way up to the door, not even bothering to knock. He hadn't shown her any consideration, so why should she?

"Really, Dean, if you're going to go through all the trouble of rudely demanding my presence, the least you could do is-,"

Her words were cut short as soon as her eyes landed on the living room. She couldn't help the dread that plummeted in her stomach as she door closed behind her.

"Oh, Lord, who died?"

The room was somber, indeed. And crowded. Nathan Scott and that odd looking boy—Lips, Nose…oh she could never remember—were leaning against the kitchen counter, the latter looking rather devastated. Sam and Millicent were there as well, hands wrapped around each other as Bobby, the wearied old man that she had learned was a father figure to the young Winchester boys, stood stoically next to them, a worn out ball cap nearly covering his gaze. There were two women there as well, ones she didn't recognize, and she remembered Brooke mentioning friends of Dean's coming up for the wedding.

Victoria shifted uncomfortably on her feet, unsteady at the intensity of all of their gazes directed on hers, and she scoffed, shoving her hair out of her eyes as she came further into the room. "Well? What's everyone staring at?"

"Mom."

That single word stopped her in her tracks. Not necessarily the word itself. Though as foreign as it had been to her for the last two decades, give or take, she had come quite accustomed to hearing it over the past year, since she and Brooke had made amends. No, it was the TONE of her daughter's voice that made her falter, and she shifted her gaze to the couch across the room. She could feel the color drain from her face when she laid eyes on her daughter.

Brooke looked positively defeated. Her flawless face, always pale in complexion, seemed to be even whiter, if that was at all possible. Her hazel eyes were puffy and red, as if from hours of crying. Makeup ran in streaks down her face, mixed with what she couldn't only assume were tears, making her face shine slightly in the overhead lighting. Her long dark hair was knotted, tumbling in disarray around her shoulders.

Victoria had seen her daughter in some awful places over the years, but never had she seen her like this.

"Brooke," she implored, tossing her handbag onto the table at her side and taking a few quick steps into the room.

Her eyes traveled to Haley, who sat next to Brooke on the couch, her arms wrapped tightly around Brooke's shoulders. From the makeup smudges on the young girl's face, it was clear she too had been crying. She was staring at Brooke in such a broken hearted way, it made Victoria uneasier than she already was.

As she neared the couch, her eyes landed on the man sitting on the other end of the couch, his body turned towards Brooke in the most protective manner she had ever seen. One of Dean's hands was grasping Brooke's tightly, his thumb rubbing gentle circles against her clasped fingers, while his other was tangled in the mess of hair at the back of her neck. His head was tilted towards hers, so that his lips ghosted over the skin of her temple, even as it was turned slightly to send a devilish glare in her direction.

Something horrible had happened.

She stopped in front of the couch, crouching down in front of her daughter, and she couldn't help but fight back the tears she could feel pricking at the back of her eyes. "Brooke…" she whispered softly, reaching and running a hand down her daughter's face. "Sweetie, talk to me? What's wrong? What's happened?"

Brooke could only stare at her mother, her lips parting to reply but only a shaky sigh escaped. She shook her head, raising a hand to wipe at the fresh onslaught of tears that were now making their way down her face. Haley's arm instinctively tightened around her friend's shoulder in response.

Victoria could hear her heart pounding in her ears. "For the love of God, would someone please tell me what the hell is going on?" she demanded, turning her head to stare at the other occupants of the room.

Sam cleared his throat from the kitchen, unwrapping his arm from around Millicent as he came towards them. "Victoria," he started, the uneasiness he always felt in her presence forgotten. "We need to ask you some questions. And it is very important that you give us the honest answers."

"What? What questions? I want to know what happened to my daughter? Why in God's name is she being cradled on a couch with tears running down her face? What the hell happened?"

"You happened."

Victoria whipped her gaze around to stare incredulously at Dean, his handsome face twisted into a angry expression. "I beg your pardon?" she demanded quietly, straightening to her full height even as he rose of the couch to do the same. He easily towered over her by a good 6 inches, but that still didn't stop her from glowering at him.

"You heard me," Dean replied, one hand clenching into a fist at his side while the other stayed positioned on Brooke's shoulder as the young brunette shook her head slowly. "You happened. You and your constant lies. Your complete disregard for your own daughter's well being."

"Dean," Haley said from her place next to Brooke.

"What in God's name are you talking about? What lies, exactly, are you referring to, Dean? Tell me? What have I done to provoke your ire this time?"

Dean scoffed, taking a step towards the women, but Brooke's hand in his pulled him back, and he glanced behind at her.

"Dean, stop," she said softly, barely able to be heard, her voice was so hoarse.

"Yes, Dean," Victoria mocked, her arms crossed over her chest. "Stop. Stop yanking me around and tell me what the hell you've done to my daughter this time." She didn't miss the flash in his eyes, or the way the other men in the room seemed to take a step closer in precaution. "Don't think I've forgotten what you left behind last time. This—," she said, waving a finger in her daughter's direction. "Is oddly reminiscent."

"Mom," Brooke tried from her place on the couch, but Dean took another step towards Victoria, the anger clearly written on his face.

"Listen here, you cantankerous old bitch," he spat, every pent up frustration and annoyance he had ever felt for the woman bubbling to the surface as he fought down the fear and anger over their current situation.

"Dean, stop," Brooke said more forcibly this time, finally struggling to her feet and wrapping an arm around his chest, pulling him back a step or two. She used her other hand to turn his face towards hers, and she stared at him. "Just stop."

Dean's jaw visibly clenched, and he ran a hand down his face, nodding as he moved to step behind his fiancée.

Brooke sighed, turning to her mother, whose face softened when their eyes met.

"Brooke, you're starting to scare me. Please. What. Happened?"

Taking a breath, Brooke wrapped her arms around her torso, her lips quivering as she raised her chin. "Daddy."

Victoria frowned. "Your father? All of this is about your father? What, about him not being here? Brooke, I warned you when you invited him that the odds of him showing up were slim to none."

"Is that because I'm not his?"

She faltered at her daughter's words. "What?"

"Am I his?" Brooke repeated, her voice cracking slightly, leading Dean to turn around and wrap an arm around her waist.

"Brooke…"

"Mom, I know this sounds crazy. But please, I need you to really think about this."

Victoria threw her arms up in the air. "Think about what? I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about. I was never unfaithful to your father, Brooke, that was his role in our marriage. What in God's name would even possess you to ask such a thing?"

Dean chuckled, shaking his head. "'Possess.' That's an appropriate choice of words there, Victoria," he said, stepping close to her again. "Listen. I know you and I have had our differences. And personally, I would like nothing more than to shove you in front of a freaking bus right now, but we need answers, and we need them now."

Something in the tone of his voice made Victoria hesitate, and she let her gaze slide between him and her daughter, who as looking up at her with an utterly heartbroken expression. It was that same expression she'd had when she was 4 years old, and walked into the middle of Esmerelda, their nanny, putting the presents under the tree on Christmas morning. Her entire belief in Santa shattered all because she needed a drink of water in the early morning hours. She'd come to her then, in her pigtailed, foot-pajama-ed childhood, and implored her. "Grow up, Brooke," is what she had muttered from under the heavy blankets of her bed. Not her proudest motherhood moment.

"What answers?"

Sam stepped forward again, always the more rational of the two brothers, and came to a stop next to her. "Victoria…before you got pregnant with Brooke. Was there anything off about your husband?"

"What do you mean?" she frowned, even as she felt her fingernails dig into the palms of her hands.

"Was there anything different about him? Did his personality change overnight? Or did he develop any new habits or routines, ones that he'd never practiced before?"

Victoria hesitated, her mind recalling the week leading up to Brooke's conception all those years ago. She could feel that familiar cold sweat affected her skin, the same she'd had when she had stood in the kitchen and stared at the man who had looked so much like her husband. "I don't understand…what does that have to do with anything?"

"It has to do with everything, Mom," Brooke said next to her. "Please. I can see it in your face." She stepped towards her mother, reaching out and grasping her hand in her own. "Just think about it, Mom."

Victoria sighed, wrapping her fingers around her daughter's as she ran a hand through her hair. "I suppose so," she said softly, shaking her head. "He was a bit withdrawn. He started smoking cigars." She curled her lip in disgust. "It was odd, because he detested them. And the way he looked at me…when he mentioned having children one day…"

"What about later, Victoria?" Sam asked. "Did you notice anything about his eyes?"

She froze, raising her eyes to meet the young man's from across the room. "His eyes? What…what would be wrong with his eyes?"

"Were they black?" Dean asked quietly from behind her.

Victoria turned to him, her face seeming to almost crumble at his question, and she heard Brooke's sharp intake of breath as she raised a hand to cover her mouth. "Well…it was just a trick of light," she lied, unable to fully admit the horror she had felt when she looked up at the man she had married, and saw those terrifying black orbs staring back at her. She had pushed the thought away then, because when she blinked, his blue eyes were back. "People's eyes don't just completely change like that. I don't understand what any of this has to do with Brooke or Ted."

Brooke let out a strangled sob, and she tore away from Dean's touch, turning around and racing down the hallway towards her bedroom. The door slammed behind her, and everyone in the room seemed to flinch with the way it echoed through the solemn house.

Dean sighed, running his hands down his face, and Victoria stared at him in confusion. Stared at all of them in confusion. Why did it seem like they were all clued into something crucial while she remained in the dark.

Dean shook his head, and spinning on his heel, strode down the hallway after his fiancée, stopping for a brief second next to Sam. "Explain it to her, Sammy," he said softly, looking back to toss another glare in the direction of his future mother-in-law. "Explain everything to her."

Sam nodded while Dean continued on towards the bedroom. He sighed, walking further into the living room and stopping next to Victoria. "Victoria…why don't you sit down?"

0000000000

He didn't knock.

Whether it was from fear that she would tell him to leave or because he knew she wouldn't, he wasn't sure. He just knew that the love of his life was in tremendous pain, and he couldn't handle the idea of not being with her at that moment.

She was sitting on the edge of their bed, a pillow clutched tightly to her chest. Her legs were tucked up underneath her, her small frame hunched inwards, making her appear so much more fragile than he knew she really was.

He was silent as he made his way into the room, stopping when he reached the foot of the bed. He just stood there, staring down at her, his heart breaking at the sheer devastation that was clearly written on her face. He reached out and pushed a strand of hair behind her ear.

Brooke sighed, looking up at him, a half smile on her face. "I guess it's a good thing we can't have kids, huh?"

Dean frowned, finally sitting next to her while wrapping an arm gently around her back. "Baby…"

She closed her eyes, biting her lip as she shook her head. "Wouldn't want to pass on that demon gene, right?"

"Hey," Dean said, raising his arm to wrap around her shoulders and turn her slightly towards him. "I don't want to hear any talk like that. Alright? Not a damn word."

Brooke sobbed, tossing the pillow behind her as she shrugged out of his grip. "Dean, just stop," she said, swiping at the tears covering her cheeks as she forced herself to her feet. She crossed to the other side of the bedroom, running a hand through her hair as she turned to face him. "Do you even understand what this means? What I am?"

"You're Brooke," Dean said, standing to his feet but making no move to come closer to her. "Okay? That's what you are. Brooke Davis. The girl I love."

She barked out a harsh laugh. "The GIRL you LOVE…is a DEMON, Dean. The blood running through my veins is that of one of those things you have spent your whole life ridding the world of. I'm tainted!"

"Enough!" Dean yelled, crossing the room and pulling her into his arms, his hands gripping her shoulders tightly. "Just stop it, Brooke." She thrashed against him, but he just tightened his grip, vaguely aware that he might leave fingerprints on her ivory skin. "Stop!"

"WHY?" she screamed, tears freely falling down her face now as she gripped his shirt tightly in her hands. "Isn't this how it's supposed to be? Demons and hunters?"

"You're not a demon!"

"Then what am I?"

"I DON'T KNOW!"

They both froze at his outburst, Dean stunned at how he let his fear and anger lash out at her, and he loosed his hold on her shoulders. He sighed, shaking his head as his hands traveled up to her face, cradling it gently as his thumbs wiped at the tears he found there. "I don't know," he admitted softly, leaning down until he was peering into her eyes intently. "Brooke, I am just at a loss here as you are. But, in God's name, you have to believe me when I say that this doesn't change a damn thing. Okay?" She sighed, her eyes closing as one of her hands came up to wrap around his. "You are still Brooke to me. That gorgeous brunette with the amazing smile that made me crash my car a million years ago. That same girl that makes me fall in love with here again and again, every single day. What's coursing through your veins right now…it doesn't mean crap to me."

"But what if it means I'm something evil?" she whispered brokenly.

"It doesn't. You don't have it in you, Brooke. Trust me. You're the most honest, faithful, GOOD person I have ever come across."

She blinked up at him, shifting on her feet. "But…"

"But, nothing, Davis," he interrupted, leaning forward until their foreheads touched gently. "You are still the girl of my dreams. Whatever is happening, or whatever is going to happen, we are going to get through. Do you hear me? This little…revelation? It doesn't change squat. I'm still going to marry you. You and I are going live long, happy lives together. We'll start a family, and we'll look back on this whole nightmare and we're just going to shake our heads at how insane we reacted to something so pointless. We're going to get through this. Do you understand?"

She was silent in his arms, and he pulled away, lifted her chin with his hand.

"Do you understand me?" he asked again when her eyes met his.

Brooke nodded after a moment, releasing a shaky breath before she looked up at him again. "This is why, isn't it? This is why he never wanted me?"

Dean shook his head, pulling her against his chest and cradling her close as he felt her body get overtaken by sobs.

"Sshh," he said as he pressed a kiss into her hair, his arms stroking her back comfortingly as they rocked slowly side to side. "It's going to be okay, baby. I promise."

00000000000

**Gaah! Finally, an update, right? I am soooo sorry for how long it's taken, my lovelies! I promise-seriously, SERIOULSY promise—that this time it won't be as long a wait!**


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